Attachment Theory
by predictably
Summary: Armin and Irwin's life together, from their strained beginnings and through every obstacle. Also hosted on AO3.
1. Chapter 1

I've been meaning to post the series here for a while. I'm going to be lazy though, and post it all in the same majig rather than a million separate stories like on AO3.

x

Being a dog groomer was harder than it looked. Armin talked to people every day who seemed to think that his job was easy, that all he did all day was play with doggies and give them fun, soapy baths, but this was not the case. Did he play with the dogs? Yes. Did he love them? Yes, again. But no other job he'd ever had had caused him as much physical pain, or as much aggravation.

Dog owners, he found, at their basest level were overwhelmingly ignorant about the animals in their care. Whenever somebody walked into the salon with a dog that was matted to the skin and said, "I don't want him shaved," Armin was tempted to take out his clippers and jam them down the owner's throat. Instead, he had to convince them that shaving was the best option, and no, he wasn't going to torture their pet just for the sake of aesthetics. He'd learned fairly quickly not to give ground on the issue. If they didn't want to let him do what was best for their dog, then they could go somewhere else.

Usually, Armin got his way. Even with the dogs, who were not always the best listeners. But he was gentle and firm, and he wasn't afraid of even the biggest or most viciously behaved dogs. In the end, they were just afraid, and it was his job to make sure they left the salon feeling better than when they'd been dropped off. So skilled was he at getting even the most difficult animals to behave that his fellow groomers had started jokingly referring to him as the "Dog Whisperer," though he felt that his methods were a little kinder than those displayed on the show.

Some days were worse than others. That was true of any line of work, but Armin still didn't appreciate being given a hard time by some idiot who spent an hour arguing with him over the price of a haircut for her standard poodle, or somebody who said their dog had gotten fleas at their salon. "People are so full of shit sometimes!" he shouted in frustration in the back of the shop. There were enough driers going that nobody could hear him, though his frustration was obvious to his peers.

"Don't let them get to you, Armin," Christa told him as she force-dried a rowdy little Jack Russell. "They just don't understand."

No, they didn't, and he had to excuse himself for a few minutes in order to calm down. Outside it was cool. Autumn was coming, and he wished he'd grabbed his coat on the way out, but he didn't feel like going back in yet so he dropped down onto the back stoop and breathed deeply of the crisp air. _Jean should be on break soon,_ he thought as he placed his hand over where his phone sat in his pocket. He waited a minute, pretending to be patient, but gave in in the end and pulled it out. Today had been rough, and he thought hearing his boyfriend's voice would make him feel a little better.

The line rang, and rang, and rang, but nobody picked up. That wasn't too unusual, if Jean left his phone at his desk or was talking to a client. Armin hung up and dialed in his work number. The secretary picked up, and he asked if Jean Kirschtein was in. "Jean? Oh, no, he went home early. Said he wasn't feeling well."

"He did?" Armin asked, worry creeping up and overwhelming the sense of anxiety he'd already been feeling. He thanked the secretary, then tried Jean's cell again. When that didn't work, he texted him, wishing that his boyfriend had a landline phone at his apartment. It vexed him to no end when he couldn't get in contact with somebody, even when he didn't desperately want to talk to them like he did right now.

An hour later Jean still hadn't answered him, and Armin was beginning to panic. It was entirely possible that his boyfriend had turned his phone off, or was sleeping, but what if he wasn't? What if he was so sick he couldn't move, or he had gotten hurt somehow? An overactive imagination that normally served him so well suddenly became a curse. His mind began churning out one horrific scenario after another, starting with Jean unconscious with a fever and ending with him dying in some horrible Final Destination-style accident involving a nail gun and a swimming pool. Armin knew he was being ridiculous. Jean lived in an apartment building that did not even boast a swimming pool, nor did he own a nail gun, but that was beside the point.

"I think I need to go home," he finally said after enduring all this for as long as he possibly could, which wasn't very long all things considered. The salon was open until seven, and it was only four, but he didn't have any other dogs scheduled so the manager told him to get lost.

"You're making the dogs upset with all this nervous energy," Ymir told him, scowling as he collected his things. A hurried apology was all he was able to manage before racing for the door.

Despite his mounting fear that Jean was lying dead in a ditch somewhere, Armin made a brief stop-off at home to change. His apartment was tiny, but it served its purpose, which was to be a place to store his things and occasionally where he ate and slept. More and more he found he was barely ever home. Most of his time was spent working, running errands, going out with friends, or spending time with Jean. Being a legitimate adult was a lot of work, but it was better than living at home, which so many of his friends still had to do. He knew he was lucky to have a decent job, and a boyfriend who admittedly drove him a little crazy at times, but meant well.

"Jean, you aren't answering your phone and they told me you left work early, so I'm coming over. Call me if you get this before I get there, okay?" At this point he didn't expect an answer. Not when Jean hadn't even texted him back yet.

The building where his boyfriend lived was twenty minutes away by car. Armin made the drive in ten, breaking God-knew how many traffic laws and not caring. He skidded to a stop at the curb and jumped out of his car, then headed toward the front door as fast as he possibly could without actually running. He had a key to the building, and to Jean's apartment. They had only been dating for a few weeks when Jean had given them to him, and he had happily returned the gesture.

Once inside, Armin ignored the elevator and headed straight for the stairs. The stupid machine was slow enough under normal circumstances, and the blond couldn't be bothered to wait. He had to make sure Jean was alright—he just hoped he was actually _at_ home, and not in some emergency room where Armin wouldn't be able to find him.

"Jean?" he called as he entered the apartment. It was dark, and on first glance appeared empty. He took a few steps in, reaching for the hallway light switch, only to pause when he stepped on something soft. It was Jean's work coat. Concern made his nerves jangle as he bent and plucked the piece of clothing from the floor. "Jean?" he called again. A thump sounded from deeper within the apartment, and he jumped slightly at the sudden noise. "Jean?" he said again, voice uncertain and wavering. What if there was somebody else here? A burglar, or some other criminal, and that was why Jean hadn't answered him?

Steeling himself, Armin crept quietly down the hall, passing the living room and the kitchen and pausing once he reached the open bathroom door. There were noises coming from Jean's bedroom, creaking and groaning noises that he desperately tried to make sense of as he closed the distance between himself and the door. For a moment he hesitated, considered just turning around and walking out, because the thought that had suddenly just occurred to him couldn't be true and if he left well-enough alone then it wouldn't have to be. He could pretend he was never here, and he'd never heard anything.

Then came the sound of someone gasping, the noise so familiar that it sent a flush of heat creeping up the back of Armin's neck. His hand was on the knob, and before he could second-guess himself he threw the door open.

One look was all he needed. One look to see his boyfriend in bed with another man. A man who had him bent over and begging the way that Armin did when Jean fucked him.

"Armin?!" Jean cried, but the blond was already headed for the front door, Jean's jacket falling from his grasp—he had forgotten he was even holding it. "Armin, wait!"

_No_, he thought, biting his lip as he paused in the hallway. _Why should I wait? What can he possibly have to say for himself?_

"Armin," Jean gasped behind him, and he turned around to see the man he'd been so worried about five minutes ago panting in nothing but a pair of boxers. They had probably been the first thing he'd grabbed off the floor. At least he had the good grace to look ashamed of himself.

"I don't want to talk about this," Armin said thickly as the other man stood there half-naked, jaw working as he tried to think of something to say.

"We can't just not talk about it," Jean argued, using that tone, that _stupid_ tone he always used when he thought Armin was being unreasonable.

"Sure we can," Armin said, feeling slightly hysterical, "I can leave, and you can go back to…back to…" he couldn't even say it.

"Jesus, Armin," Jean said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, "I…look, it's not—,"

"What? It's not what it looks like? Because I got a pretty good look, Jean, so tell me how it's not what it looks like!"

"I wasn't going to say that!" Jean snapped, "I don't know what I was going to say!"

"So don't fucking say anything! That's what you're best at, right?"

"Goddammit, Armin, don't even start!" Jean said, waving a finger in his face that Armin wished he had the guts to snap in two. "Look, I'm sorry that this is how you found out about this, I really am, but can you really stand there and tell me you're surprised?"

Armin felt his jaw drop. "How…how can you even ask me that? Are you saying I should have seen this coming?"

"Maybe."

"How? How was I supposed to…Are you saying this is _my_ fault? My fault _how_?" The very implication made his head spin. Jean could be stubborn, he could be a jerk, but Armin never would have thought he'd do something like _this_. He was completely blindsided, and he didn't understand what was being said to him. It was wildly different from how he normally felt, he who understood and saw so much, who read so deeply into everything. No, he hadn't seen _this_ coming at all.

"I've tried dropping hints to you Armin. I tried telling you what I wanted, what I needed, but everything always winds up being about _you_. Armin always gets what Armin wants, isn't that the way it goes?"

"What are you even talking about?!" Armin cried, "I don't know what you're trying to tell me! What hints? What do you mean I always get what I want?"

"You're a manipulator, Armin. Don't try to act like you don't know, either, because you do."

"B-but I…" Did he do that? Well, he knew how to work a conversation around to turn out in his favor—that's what he did all day at work, but he hadn't ever done it with Jean. Had he? Not for anything important, surely. Maybe he'd done so teasingly, maybe in the bedroom… "Are you…are you saying you cheated on me because I wouldn't fuck you?" he whispered. It was absurd. They had sex all the time. Jean could have _told_ him that that was what he wanted.

Jean only sighed. It was a weary, exasperated sound. "It doesn't really matter now, does it? I was going to tell you about Marco, but…," he shrugged. "It's over now, I guess. I'm sorry."

"You're not sorry," Armin said, voice thick, "And _you_ don't get to dump _me_! If you'd just fucking said something—! You're a bastard, Jean! I hope you're fucking happy!" He made sure to slam the door good and hard behind him, and then he was running. Running without a destination, or a single thought in his head. He just knew he wanted to get away from _there_, from _that_ place, from the thing he'd just seen and the words Jean had said to him.

He didn't know where he was going, and when he finally realized his lungs were burning and his legs were threatening to give way underneath him he also realized he didn't know where he was. It was a part of the city he had never bothered to visit—the downtown area, the place where all the big corporations and banks did all their business, where the buildings reached up away from the ground to touch the sky. Chest heaving, he gulped down air, only realizing that his run wasn't the only reason he was breathing so hard when he felt the hot tears tracking down his face.

Without a thought, he staggered back until he stumbled into something. Thankfully it was just a bench, and he collapsed down onto it, buried his face into his hands, and began to weep. Since coming to live in the city, he'd seen a lot of strange things, and at first he would stop and gape until he realized he was staring. Nowadays he paid little mind to things like screaming curbside prophets, or people who openly wept in public. Likewise, he expected the multitudes of pedestrians here to do the same.

He cried in great heaving sobs, cried like he hadn't cried in years. There was an awful pain in his chest, an aching chasm that was filled with Jean's horrible words, with the image of him being fucked by somebody Armin had never seen before. He realized his heart was broken, shattered into pieces in the space of less than half-an-hour. _Oh, God, how could he do this to me? _

"Are you alright?" The words were spoken gently enough, but they still gave Armin quite a start. He looked up through blurry eyes, wiping at his face with his sleeve, and was embarrassed to see he had drawn some attention after all. The man staring down at him was tall, even bent over as he was. He was watching Armin with a look of mild concern, blue eyes slightly narrowed, hair blond and slicked back. He wore a suit underneath an overcoat, and was carrying a briefcase. If he was one of the businessmen that worked in this area then Armin was shocked he had bothered to stop at all.

"I'm fine," he said, sniffling as he wiped his eyes again—he couldn't stop crying even now. _God, I'm such a baby_. "No," he amended, choking on his own words, "That was a lie. I'm not fine. At all." And then he was sobbing all over again. Only now that he had an audience his public blubbering seemed more than a little pathetic.

"Here." He looked to the side and saw the stranger had taken a seat next to him, and was now offering him a travel-sized packet of tissues.

"Th-thank you," he stammered, taking the pack and tearing it open with trembling fingers. He turned away as he blew his nose and wiped his eyes dry. For now it seemed he was done with the tears, though he still felt like somebody had run over his heart with a steam-roller.

"You're welcome," said the businessman, "If this is too personal a question then feel free to ignore it, but may I ask why you're so upset?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Armin said, voice cracking like he was thirteen all over again.

"Alright."

"No it's _not_. My stupid boyfriend broke up with me," he blurted, damning his emotionally loosened tongue. Telling a total stranger that he was gay was not normally something he went around doing, but at the moment he found he didn't really care.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I caught him cheating, and he had the fucking audacity to break up with _me_!" Armin said, nearly shouting as he was overcome by a surge of anger. Now that he had calmed down, he realized just how furious he truly was. The absurdity of Jean's motivations, the selfish denial of responsibility, the way he'd implied that it was all Armin's fault—was he serious? Was the _fucking serious_?

"Forgive me for saying so, but it sounds to me like you might be better off without him. Then again, I don't have all the information," the stranger said amiably enough. Armin gave him a wary, sidelong glance. He sounded sincere, but it was rare for a total stranger to be so _nice_ for absolutely no reason.

"You didn't give me your name," Armin said, tossing his used tissues into a barrel next to the bench and wishing he had some hand sanitizer.

"Irwin Smith," said the man, offering a kind smile that Armin thought was meant to be disarming. "And you are…?"

"Armin Arlert," he muttered, staring down at his still unsteady hands.

"Well, Armin, it sounds like you're having a stressful day."

Armin was surprised to hear himself laugh. "That's putting it lightly, Mr. Smith."

"Irwin." Whatever.

He stood, glancing around at his surroundings and loosing a heavy sigh. "I should go," he said, "I left my car in front of his building and I should probably move it."

Irwin got to his feet beside him, and Armin took a step back when faced with the man's full height in comparison to his own. Everyone always teased him for being so tiny, as if it were something he had any control over. _Like I'd have chosen to be this short_, he thought, fidgeting self-consciously in Irwin's shadow. "I could drive you, if you like."

"That's very kind, but I can walk. I got dumped, not run over by a truck," Armin said dryly. To his chagrin, the tall man chuckled at this.

"Let me buy you a cup of coffee then, at least."

"Why?" Armin asked, wondering why this guy couldn't seem to take a hint.

"I'd hate to leave someone on their own after seeing them crying their eyes out over a broken heart," Irwin said, and Armin felt his resolve weaken. Did he want to be alone? No. He hated being on his own; he had spent much of his life that way and it ate at him. It was why he hardly ever went home to his empty little apartment, why he spent most nights out with friends or at Jean's.

"Fine," he sighed, making sure he sounded as reluctant at the prospect of coffee with this strange man as he possibly could. But in a way he was relieved. If he went home now he would wind up calling one of his friends. Maybe Eren, or Mikasa, or both of them, and he'd probably cry over the phone, and Eren would rage, and Mikasa would quietly offer to kill Jean for him. They were his best friends, his family, but he hated being a burden to them. They knew all of his problems, were the ones he always ran crying to when he was upset. Better to get the worst of it off of his chest now, dump it all on some guy he didn't know, and then never see him again. That way he could be rational about all of this later on. That way he could appear strong, so Jean wouldn't know how badly his actions had hurt him.

Irwin led him to a small coffee shop a block and a half away. It was the sort of upscale place that Armin usually skirted. He did well for himself but not so well that he could afford a five dollar cup of coffee with his breakfast every morning. The coffee wasn't bad, though, which annoyed him. He had been hoping it would taste like crap so that he could turn his nose up at it and grumble about it being overpriced.

"Thanks," he said when Irwin handed him the cup. Cream and three sugars, like he liked it. Jean had always chided him for adding so much sugar, but Armin had a sweet tooth and he hated the taste of unsweetened coffee.

He picked a booth by the window, purposefully keeping them away from the dark nooks and crannies the coffee shop provided. Although the place obviously catered to the rich, there were a few giggling couples cozied up in the corner booths, holding hands and kissing and making Armin's heart ache.

Coffee with the businessman was not what he expected. Irwin sat across from him, sipping his beverage silently and staring through the window with an unreadable expression. Armin watched him, waiting for the pitch, for the suggestive look, for the hand on his knee underneath the table. He wasn't stupid, and this wasn't the first time an older man had tried to pick him up. Normally they came on a lot stronger than this, though. They leered, and made lewd remarks, and told Armin what they wanted to do to him. They assumed that because he was thin and blond that he must be a vapid little twink who would eventually succumb to their advances. It made him nervous, and he would normally get them to back off by saying he was waiting for his boyfriend to show up.

That wouldn't work this time, obviously. Irwin already knew he didn't have a boyfriend—not anymore—but he was being awfully not-creepy about the whole thing. For a wonder it seemed as though he was being genuinely considerate.

"So," he said, breaking the long silence as he stared at Irwin over the top of his cup.

"Hmm?"

"Did you want to…talk or anything?"

"Only if you want to." Armin didn't know what to say to that, so he quickly looked down at the fancy paper cup in his hands and toyed with the cardboard sleeve. "Do you want to?"

"I don't know," Armin muttered. He had thought he did, but now he wasn't sure. "It's just…we were dating almost a whole year. And the only reason I went over to his place was because I thought something bad might have happened to him. I was worried. I kept picturing all these horrible things, and then I walked in on him and…" He gritted his teeth together and ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. Jean had constantly been telling him he should get a haircut, but Armin liked having longer hair and the criticism had always bothered him. Even if he had agreed, he still wouldn't have done it, just to get under Jean's skin. Maybe that was part of the reason why all of this had happened. Not just with his hair, but with everything they did together.

"Was he your first boyfriend?"

Armin huffed. "I'm twenty-two," he said.

"Was he?"

"…Yes. I mean, I didn't come out until I was eighteen, so…," he trailed off and shrugged, tracing the patterns in the grain of the table so that he wouldn't have to look Irwin in the eye. He was shy. He always had been, and even after "coming out" he really hadn't made any effort to date anybody until he'd met Jean, and then it had all been pretty one-sided. He had had coax Armin out of his relationship shell, inch by inch. And now look what he had done with that.

"The first time is always the worst," Irwin said, leaning forward on his elbows and folding his hands in front of his face, "But you'll recover."

"If you say so." This felt like the worst thing that could ever possibly happen to him. His whole body hurt. Even now he felt like he was on the verge of bursting into tears, and he could only marvel at how well he was doing at holding in all those roiling emotions.

They were silent again, and Armin stared out at the people passing by on the sidewalk outside. Jean was a miserable bastard, a stupid, condescending jerk who was always picking fights with Armin's friends, but who had always seemed so caring, so _knowing_. _How could he do this to me? _Armin thought again.

"I loved him, you know," he said, looking up at the towering buildings. He couldn't see the sun, but above them the sky was turning pink. "He was the first boy I ever loved like that, and now…" He made a dismissive gesture, as if he hoped to shove the whole matter down into some dark place where nobody would ever need to know any of it had ever happened.

"Armin," Irwin said, regarding him with a serious, calculating expression. _Here it comes_, he though bracing himself for the come on. "I should drive you back to your car."

"Oh," he said, taken aback, "Okay."

Irwin's car was probably the most expensive vehicle Armin had ever been inside. It was a Mercedes Benz E350 Bluetec, or at least that's what the businessman told him when he asked. The seats were heated, and they were made of real leather, and Armin sat tensely on the passenger side, worried that he might inadvertently cause some damage.

"Where did you leave your car?" Irwin asked, smiling slightly at Armin's obvious discomfort.

"It's at…it's um…," Armin didn't want to go home. He glanced at Irwin out of the corner of his eye, and then down at his tightly clenched hands.

"Armin?"

"I…w-would you…Can we…?"

"Yes?" He looked expectant, as if he knew what the little blond was trying to ask.

"I wouldn't mind…going back to your place." He couldn't believe the words, even as they came out of his mouth. This was what he'd been worried about trying to avoid, and now he was suggesting it. Because why not? Why the fuck not? Jean had somebody else to fuck, so why not him? He knew it was foolish, and petty, but he didn't care. Irwin was good looking. He was actually very handsome. Sort of _ridiculously_ handsome, in fact. Armin had been ignoring it until now, but he wondered what it would be like to have those big, strong-looking hands of his with their long, pianist's roaming all over his body. _Oh, God, what is wrong with me?_

"If that's what you want," Irwin said noncommittally, as if it didn't matter one way or another to him. Didn't he see the turmoil that this decision was causing to Armin's already frazzled mind? Swallowing hard, the little blond threw off his seatbelt and leaned over the center console. As he reached for Irwin, he was pleased to see he had taken the older man by surprise, but it was only for a second. Before he could react, he was being pulled forward into his lap, and one of those big hands was cupping the back of his head as Irwin's mouth closed over his.

Armin froze as lips that were astonishingly soft pushed against his. A tongue swept across his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth without thinking. The hot digit thrust inside, stroking against his own tongue, and the intrusion seemed to jumpstart his brain. He reached up, gripping the lapels of Irwin's coat and kissing him back with a hunger he would never have thought himself capable of. Not after the rest of today. He didn't think the businessman expected him to be so enthusiastic, or so combative, though he also didn't seem to mind. By the time they pulled apart Armin was breathless and Irwin was looking at him like he'd like to devour him whole.

"You don't live too far away, do you?" Armin asked, and Irwin gave him that same, soft smile.

The drive back to his house took far too long. There was traffic, and Armin watched the quickly darkening city go by with a sense of quiet urgency. If he lost his nerve now, it would be far more embarrassing than the way that Irwin had found him crying on that bench.

When they finally seemed to have reached the businessman's place of residence, Armin couldn't help but gape. The penthouses in that particular part of town were the type of places his friends were always joking about living in one day, if they ever won the lottery. And Irwin was pulling into the parking garage, into an assigned spot it seemed, and climbing out like it was no big deal. Armin scrambled to follow him, staring at the man's back with mounting apprehension. Just who was this man that he was preparing to sleep with?

"Y-you really live here, huh?" he asked nervously as Irwin showed him to the elevator.

"Yes. On the top floor."

"O-oh?"

"Don't be nervous, Armin."

"I'm not nervous. What makes you think that I'm nervous?" he asked, voice too high, shoulders too tense. Irwin put a gentle hand in the small of his back, and ran the palm of it up and down his spine. The motion was oddly soothing, but not so much that he completely forgot where he was.

The apartment was enormous. Too big to really be called an apartment. Yes, penthouse was definitely an accurate term for what this was. Armin stood in the doorway, afraid to take as step inside. His shoes were beat up old Chuck Taylors, and even the floor in this place looked expensive. He might have stayed there all night, too, if Irwin hadn't placed a guiding hand on his back and gently pushed him inside.

"Relax. Make yourself at home."

"That's okay, really, I can just—Is that a tosa inu?" he asked. There was a clicking of toenails on tile, and the enormous red dog the toes were attached to appeared, lumbering across the living room in a slow gait.

"Yes. How did you know?" Irwin asked.

"I'm a dog groomer," Armin said as the dog approached, warily wagging his tail at the sight of a stranger. "Hey pup. Come on, I don't bite," he said, dropping down to doggy eye-level and patting his knees. As if some sort of spell had been broken, the dog trotted forward, head lowered and tail wagging as he came to greet the blond.

"Are you?"

"Yeah. Oh, he's so _handsome_. Look at you, you're _perfect_," Armin said to the dog, "What's his name?"

"Romulus," Irwin replied.

"_Romulus_," Armin repeated, tugging at the dog's ears and floppy jowls, "I've never seen one in real life before. They're pretty rare."

"He's a show dog," Irwin supplied, walking past them and draping his coat over the arm of a very expensive looking sofa, "I'm surprised that he likes you. He doesn't usually warm up to people so fast, though most people are also afraid of him."

"Pssh," Armin scoffed, "How could anyone be afraid of something with such a sweet face?" Romulus woofed, as if in agreement, and flopped down to the floor, rolling onto his side so that Armin could scratch his belly.

"If you two are quite through…," Irwin said, though he sounded amused. Armin got to his feet, flushing slightly at the display. He supposed he must have made a sight, cooing over dog that probably weighed more than he did. Romulus whined as Armin stepped away from him, toeing his shoes off and slipping off his jacket. He wasn't really wearing much underneath. Just a t-shirt and jeans that he'd thrown on in his haste to go check on his boyfriend. Jean was always complaining about Armin smelling like dogs after he got off of work, and that was why Armin had bothered to change in the first place. Asshole.

"C-could I use your bathroom?" he asked, feeling stupid and awkward as Irwin directed him down the hallway. Armin carefully shut and locked the door behind him, and tried to ignore how even in here it was beautiful and far beyond anything he would ever have. He washed his hands in the sink, then splashed water on his face. "What am I doing here?" he asked his reflection. What he saw in the mirror was a boy who looked scared out of his mind, and more than a little sad. He didn't want to feel sad. He wanted to feel anything _but_ that, to think of anything _but_ Jean.

Irwin was lounging on his sofa, legs crossed, arms spread out on the headrest behind him. Armin stared at him for a moment, watching from the doorway. If he wanted to he could run right past him, grab his shoes and his coat and be out the door in just a few seconds. He was sure Irwin wouldn't even follow him, and once he was outside he could call a cab. But it was dark out, and the city looked unbelievable from way up here at the top of the world. He could see all of it through the enormous windows spanning the walls. It was beautiful, and Armin didn't want to leave.

Taking a breath, he stepped out of the hall and padded over to the man waiting for him on the couch. Irwin reached for him as he climbed up onto the cushions, pulling him close until he was straddling the businessman's lap. "Are you sure this is what you want?" Irwin asked, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down the younger man's arms. He could probably see how uncertain Armin felt, but he pushed those feelings down. Tomorrow he might feel differently, but he had always been so sensible, so rational, and maybe sometimes that was a bad thing.

With a hand he traced the older man's jaw, then leaned to kiss where his fingers had been before trailing his lips back up to that soft mouth, shaking as he ran his hands down the front of Irwin's shirt. The suit-jacket he'd been wearing was already gone, leaving just the button-up underneath. As he reached down to tug the hem of the shirt out of his slacks, he felt Irwin's hands on his shoulders, running up through his hair. Armin slipped a hand underneath the freed shirt and felt soft skin layered over hard muscle—the firmness of the body beneath his made his stomach flutter, and he gasped when Irwin kissed him again.

Jean had been Armin's first everything. He'd had nothing else to compare his experiences with his moody now ex-boyfriend with until now. Jean had been aggressive in nearly everything he did, though never exactly forceful or demanding. Irwin kissed him deeply, luring Armin to forget everything, to throw himself into the heat of the other man's body. Every touch was gentle, a question that Armin had to approve before he moved on. He pulled away from the kiss for air and let Irwin divest him of his shirt. Then he leaned down and kissed the businessman's neck, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt and fighting the urge to just tear them away.

As the buttons opened, he followed the wake of his hands with his mouth, pushing back the collar of the shirt and kissing and nipping the soft skin of Irwin's neck. Then he was moving down, sucking the hollow of his throat and, tasting his collarbone. Irwin smelled like what was probably some very expensive cologne, something soft like Armin had never smelled before. And he was built like all he did was lift weights all day. Maybe instead of a businessman he was actually one of those MMA fighters Jean liked to watch beat the crap out of each other, and Armin had just caught him leaving an interview or something.

He ran his hands down the sculpted torso, felt Irwin's hands exploring him, though admittedly there really wasn't much to find. Armin was small, but he wasn't scrawny. Grooming was hard physical labor, and he wasn't as dainty as people often pegged him to be. He trailed his lips down Irwin's chest, and closed his mouth around a nipple, teasing it with his tongue. _What the hell am I doing?_ That seemed to be a recurring theme tonight. There was no nervousness now, no fear. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted to feel good for a while.

"I can honestly say I didn't expect this from you," Irwin said, and Armin looked up to see the man wore a heavy-lidded, lustful stare.

"Neither did I." He squirmed on Irwin's lap, feeling the older man's erection throbbing through his jeans. "Where's the dog?" he asked almost as an afterthought, because a dog who saw his owner apparently cuddling with another human being was apt to join in, and Armin had no desire to be crushed by an overenthusiastic canine.

"I locked him in the spare bedroom."

"Good." With that, he reached down between their bodies and began undoing Irwin's pants. He tugged the belt open, and slowly, teasingly slid his hand underneath the waistband of his briefs. Irwin slipped his hands down to rest on Armin's waist, and their eyes locked as the younger man began to stroke him, drawing the pulsing cock out of the costly pair of slacks. Without even looking he could tell that Irwin was bigger than what he was used to, and for a moment that gave him pause. But he had come this far, and he was having a hard time with how tight his pants suddenly were. Irwin's hands were moving again, resting on his hips as long fingers began to fondle him through the fabric. He shuddered, and leaned into the touch, moving his hand again on the older man's burning shaft.

With a moan, he leaned down to kiss Irwin again, tugging on the businessman's bottom lip with his teeth. "Does that feel good?" Irwin murmured, pulling Armin closer and pressing his lips to the squirming boy's ear. Not to be outdone, Armin ground against him, eliciting a hiss as the rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against sensitive flesh. So he did it again, making the older man groan with longing. Instead of waiting for retaliation, Armin pulled back, sliding off of Irwin's lap. Before the older man could ask where he was going, he knelt on the floor between his knees and reached once more for his throbbing length.

He started at the base, licking, following a pulsating vein all the way up to the head. Irwin watched him with apparent fascination, as if Armin were a puzzle he couldn't make sense of, and that gave the little blond something of a thrill. Nobody had ever looked at him like that before. Everybody knew he was Armin, Armin the smart kid, Armin who was quiet and loyal to his friends, and who liked dogs and reading. They all thought he was so easily figured out, and he had always thought so as well. He tongued the slit of Irwin's cock, then pulled the tip into his mouth, bobbing his head down and stroking what he couldn't fit past his lips.

"Does _that_ feel good?" he asked, pulling off and kissing away a drop of precum. Irwin responded by grabbing him, tugging him back up onto his lap, and crushing their mouths together.

"Bedroom. Now," he fairly growled. Armin was happy to comply.

There was lube on the bedside table. The young blond lifted his hips as Irwin finally finished undressing him by way of removing his jeans. Once they were gone, he leaned back and watched as the businessman grabbed the little bottle before ushering him further back on the bed. "Roll over," he said, and Armin did so. His head was pounding, as was his heart, but he raised his hips and a moment later felt a cold, wet finger gently stroking against him. The other hand found his cock, and he pushed into it, begging to be touched. He wanted Irwin's hands all over him, but they were preoccupied now and he whined for the older man to get on with it.

A long, lean finger pushed into him and he felt the moan tear from his lips before he could stop it. Irwin was still being gentle, but it felt as though his control was already slipping, and that seemed to be a fact the businessman didn't like. He stroked Armin's insides with a steady hand, adding a finger and scissoring the digits. "I'm not a virgin, y'know," Armin groaned, gripping the sheets beneath him until his knuckles turned white. He felt Irwin falter, and pushed his hips back, saying with his body what he didn't say out loud. _Fuck me_. That's what he was here for. That's what all this was about. Maybe it was a form of revenge, or maybe he just wanted to feel close to someone, but he didn't think it mattered either way.

The fingers withdrew, and he sat up to watch Irwin slip on a condom before stroking lube onto an erection that frankly looked rather painful. He rolled onto his back when the businessman approached, reaching up and pulling the larger man down to kiss him again. "Make me feel good," he murmured into his lips. Irwin sat up between his legs, pushing his thighs apart, and Armin closed his eyes at the onset of pressure at his entrance. The head eased in, and he tilted his hips up, wrapping his legs around Irwin's waist in an effort to pull him deeper.

"You're going to make me come if you keep that up," Irwin rumbled down at him.

"That's the plan, right?" Armin shot back. "Ah!" He helped as the older man thrust into him, sheathing himself completely in one fell swoop. Dammit, he was big. Almost too big for comfort, and he was moving already, pulling back, then pushing in again, adopting a steady, agonizingly sensuous rhythm. "Oh, God," Armin groaned. "_Ohhh_, fuck!" He was never so noisy. He moaned, and whimpered, but he didn't cry out. He didn't yell, but he did tonight.

Irwin was groaning above him, moving faster. Armin sobbed as the enormous cock inside him ground against his prostate with every pass, sending stars exploding behind his eyelids. He heard himself begging for more, for Irwin to go deeper and harder, even though he never said things like that. And Irwin complied, moving faster, pumping into him so hard that he could hear the smacking of their flesh coming together. "That's—oh, it's so fucking good!" As soon as the words were out of his mouth Irwin stopped, withdrawing completely and leaving Armin feeling empty and incomplete. "No," he whined.

"Roll over," Irwin said again, voice thick and husky.

"I want to see your face," Armin protested, but he did as he was told. He wanted to watch the older man's expression when he came, but he wanted him to keep fucking him even more. His hips were yanked up, and he felt an overwhelming sense of relief when the cock was pushed back home and the vigorous driving thrusts resumed, harder even than before. The blond shouted his pleasure into the mattress as Irwin once again began stroking his cock. _God, I'm so close, please, oh, please_. He couldn't tell if he was speaking out loud anymore, nor did he care. He just wanted to come, wanted Irwin to make him forget everything.

He felt Irwin leaning over him, felt one of those large hands close over his smaller one. Time stopped, and a jolt of white-hot burning pleasure exploded through him, crackling from the place where their bodies met outward to all other parts of him and ending in his brain. He couldn't see, or hear, or feel anything else, not even when Irwin came and collapsed on top of him, whispering that he was unbelievable.

When he regained his senses it was to find himself curled up in the older man's arms, already half-asleep. He felt sore, and warm, and his whole body pulsed with the afterglow of their exertions. "Damn," he murmured when he saw that Irwin was already asleep. Tomorrow he would probably regret all of this. No, not probably—definitely. Tomorrow he would definitely wonder what had gotten into him, and feel guilty and stupid, but for now he was too tired. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of Irwin's neck, and promptly fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for reviewing and faving this story. I'm glad you guys like it :D

I am weak and was unable to restrain myself from loading this with random grooming facts. I am not sorry. Ya'll gon learn today.

x

October in a grooming salon was like the calm before the storm. With the holiday season looming, all the groomers and bathers knew they would be working themselves to exhaustion. People became a little crazy around those days when they would be having crowds of visitors in their homes, and they wanted everything to be perfect and clean, including their pets. They would call the salon at all hours, and there would be walk-ins galore, and they would wait hours in the lobby for the first opening that came along.

It was always the same. First came the test run that was Thanksgiving, then there was the one-two punch of Hanukkah and Christmas, and they even had people calling to have their dogs groomed for Kwanzaa some years. Nobody objected to any of this of course. Holidays meant three things in a groomer's mind; holiday tips, gifts from customers, and big fat commission paychecks. To Armin, who had grown up with very little, the amounts of money he made during those two months alone was somewhat alarming.

Ever since getting a job at the salon owned by the Renz family, though, he had grown accustomed to the litany of holiday cards and trays of baked goods (and one year a box of chocolates with brandy inside that they'd wound up eating on the job). Like everyone else he hung the cards up around the mirror at his workstation, along with pictures of his dogs, and friends, and—until very recently—his boyfriend.

Now the pictures of Jean he had once carefully taped to the wall, and tucked into the edge of his mirror were hidden away in the bottom drawer of his grooming cart. Ymir had wanted to burn them in some sort of "cleansing ritual" but Armin had simply pulled them down and stuffed them away where he didn't have to look at them. "I could always just break his legs instead," his coworker had offered afterward. He had regretfully declined, though he was touched that she cared enough to offer. Up until that point he had thought that she didn't even like him all that much.

"Do we have any glow-in-the-dark nail polish?" Christa asked as she dug through the drawers at her station. Halloween brought its own run of strange requests, but they always had themed accessories on hand for every occasion. A bored-looking golden retriever sat on her table, his coat resplendent in the brief post-grooming window before he went out into the world and rolled in a puddle of mud. As far as any groomer was concerned, they didn't care what messes the dog got into as long as they stayed clean until their owner picked them up.

"Look in the junk drawer," Armin told her absentmindedly, and she jumped up, racing across the salon to heed his suggestion. The dog watched her go, and yawned. Technically they weren't supposed to leave them on the table without supervision, but after a while one developed a sense for which dogs were jumpers. Most of the animals would simply stand there, or fidget. It was actually rare that they would try to escape, at least while they knew the noose was still attached.

In the lull between appointments Armin stood at the desk, one hand tapping at the computer keyboard as he perused the grooming database. His other arm was busy cradling a shivering, nervous Chihuahua mix who snarled at anyone else who came too close, be they human or canine. To his left stood Ymir, chatting away on the phone with some customer, and simultaneously scribbling something down in the appointment book. Armin was tuning her out, preoccupied with editing the Chihuahua's information in the computer. That is, until he heard her say his name.

"Of course…Yes, Armin is very good…thank you, sir…we'll see you soon." He watched her out of the corner of his eye as she set the phone in its cradle and turned to regard him with an uncharacteristic grin.

"Someone requested me?" he asked as she leaned a hip against the desk.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed, the wide bearing of her grin giving him a sense of unease.

"Alright, so what?" Armin had a good handful of clients that requested him specifically. That didn't explain why she was leering at him like the Joker.

"It's a new client," she said.

"So?"

"So, they didn't put the call in themselves." She waited for him to respond, but ended up continuing before he could think of anything appropriately sarcastic to say, "They had their secretary do it. And he wouldn't give the client's name. You know what that means?"

"Do I want to?"

"That means that in approximately thirty minutes were gonna have some rich yuppie schmuck's assistant walk through those doors. And you know what rich yuppie schmucks do when they find something they like?"

"I'm sure you're going to enlighten me."

"They tell all their dumb friends about it, and that means we're about to start catering to a very exclusive brand of clientele."

"Yeah, great," Armin said with a roll of his eyes, "A bunch of picky, rich penny-pinchers, whose dogs will all be crazy, spoiled lunatics."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Armin," Ymir chided, that frightening grin widening. Armin swore he could see the dollar signs dancing in her eyes, and knew there was no point in trying to disillusion her. For all they knew it was a prank call, or perhaps the person hadn't wanted to give their information over the phone. Some people were just paranoid like that.

"Did they say why they requested me?" he asked instead, glancing down curiously at the appointment book. Whatever response Ymir gave to his question was lost as he read the name of his next appointment and felt his stomach drop: _Romulus, Japanese mastiff, request_. No. It couldn't be. That would be absolutely ridiculous. Only there was no way that this was a coincidence, that there were two Japanese mastiffs in this city named Romulus. This was absolutely _not_ acceptable, not in any way, shape, or form. _Please, God, if you exist, please don't let him walk in here with that dog._ If miracles existed, then he really would send his assistant to do his dirty work rather than make an appearance himself. He was a busy man after all. Or so Armin assumed.

_Dammit. I don't even know anything about the man_. Yet another bullet point on the long, long list of reasons why Armin was ashamed for sleeping with a man named Irwin Smith. The name was just about all the knowledge Armin possessed pertaining to the individual, aside from the fact that he was wealthy beyond reason and exceptionally good-looking. None of that excused the fact that he had used the man—or had been used by him—while he was emotionally compromised. For all Armin had known, Irwin could have been some kind of psychopath. He could have chopped the blond up into little pieces and fed him to his dog, and no one would have been any the wiser.

And now he was bringing his dog to the salon where Armin worked, apparently with little thought as to how that would make the blond groomer feel. There were twenty minutes left until the time of the appointment. Armin used the period allotted to work himself into a state of extreme irritation and discomfiture. Neither Ymir, or Christa, or anybody Armin called friend or acquaintance knew about what had happened in the hours after he had discovered that his longtime boyfriend had been cheating on him. No, that was a painful secret Armin kept buried in the back of his mind. It had been nearly three weeks since it had happened, but he could still remember every touch, every word of that night, and his mind would recall these instances at the worst possible moments.

Moments like now, when he was vacuuming up the accumulation of dog hair, knowing what the future held for him and being unable to stop thinking of the way he'd screamed when Irwin had been fucking him into his king-sized mattress. _Why me? _he thought miserably.

Christa finished painting the golden's nails, and let him down off the table. They had a no-caging policy, which meant that at any given time there were usually several dogs underfoot. Only those with behavioral issues were locked away, like Armin's Chihuahua buddy who was now huddling in the corner of a small crate in the back of the salon. Most of the dogs got along perfectly well, and people liked to see them running around free, though the groomers got tired of explaining over and over again why caging them wasn't cruel. Dogs were den animals, and felt more secure when they could rest in a small, confined space, provided it was big enough for them to move around in comfortably.

The minutes ticked by, and Armin couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the clock. The appointment had been made for three, but sometimes people thought they were being helpful by showing up early. In reality, it was more of a hindrance since the groomer was probably still trying to finish up their previous appointment. The fact that Armin wasn't doing anything of import didn't mean he wanted the dog to arrive early, or even at all. People made appointments all the time that they just didn't bother showing up for. Normally it was aggravating, but on this particular occasion he didn't think he would mind it much at all.

When the minute hand hit three, he jerked up straight to look at the door. There was no Irwin, or Romulus. Three-oh-one came, then two minutes had passed. Each minute that went by lessened the likelihood of the client showing up, and at five past Armin was actually beginning to relax. Then came the small _whooshing_ sound of the door opening. No salon in their right mind would have bells over the door, not with a bunch of easily distracted animals in their care. But they were all attuned to the rhythms of their workplace, and all three groomers looked up at once.

_Jesus take the wheel,_ Armin thought over the sound of the dryer. Ymir had a grumpy little schnoodle on her table, and Christa was chasing after her golden with an orange and black bandana. Armin swallowed hard, and forced himself to move toward the desk.

"Sorry I'm late," Irwin said to him.

It took a vast effort to make his vocal chords obey, but Armin managed a polite, albeit stiff response. "It's fine. You can sit if you like, I have to get your dog signed in, sir." _Sir_, he mentally scoffed as he reached for the client information clipboard. Attached to it were several sheets of identical paper, detailing things like vet information, emergency numbers, and available services.

As he rounded the desk and pushed through the little doorway between himself and the lobby, Armin found his knees were weak. It was a wonder he could walk at all, much less maintain an outward appearance of detached cordiality. Irwin chose not to sit, and Armin was treated once more to the vast difference in their relative height and size. _I can't believe I let _that_ fuck me and survived_, he thought, biting his tongue in order to keep a straight face. If there was a God, then it was a cruel one. Irwin was just as unrealistically attractive now as he had been that night. Armin hadn't just imagined or exaggerated it in his guilt-laden memories.

"So," he said, hearing the slight pitch in his voice and cerebrally kicking himself for it, "What would you like to have done for Romulus today?"

Irwin regarded him dispassionately, as if Armin hadn't seen that calm façade screwed up into an expression of ecstasy. The dog himself sat by his master's side, panting slightly and looking up at Armin with bright, expectant eyes. Of course the animal remembered him, and clearly Romulus had no reason to pretend as though they had never met.

After what felt like ages, but was probably only a few seconds, Irwin replied in an equally polite but disconnected manner. "Whatever you think is best." Relief flooded through Armin, not to mention gratitude that the businessman wasn't here to screw with him. If they could keep this professional, then maybe he could make it through the day without humiliating himself further.

Armin went down the list, collecting all the pertinent information and asking the standard questions. Romulus didn't have any medical conditions he needed to be aware of, so he moved on to services. "Do you want any specific package for him, or just the standard bath and brush?" Armin asked.

"Why don't you just give him everything on the list?" Irwin suggested.

Armin looked up from the clipboard and regarded him incredulously. "Everything?"

"Everything within reason, yes."

"Th-that will be kind of expensive, sir. And it'll take a while to finish," Armin stammered out, as if Irwin lived in a penthouse but couldn't afford to get his giant dog groomed.

"That's fine," Irwin said. Armin only nodded, and went down the list, checking off all the add-ons that could be applied. Aside from deskunking or a flea bath, that included nearly everything they had to offer, Armin thought as he mentally tallied the cost. On top of the base price, Romulus was looking at a two-hundred and fifty dollar bath.

"Just sign here," Armin said, fighting a scowl as he handed over the release. "We'll call you when he's done. Shouldn't be more than a few hours." All pretense of politeness evaporated. Now he was brusque and clearly annoyed, but he had no idea why and that only served to irritate him further. He could only surmise that he was upset because by giving Armin such a large commission Irwin only seemed to be trying to curry his favor. Yes, that had to be it. Nobody had ever asked for the whole bathing package, not even the best-off members of their clientele. Normally rich people were the first to complain about the price, but Irwin scrawled his name without even glancing at the total.

Romulus followed obediently once his leash was handed over and Armin led him back behind the desk. Irwin left without another word, both to Armin's relief and frustration. Just what sort of game was the bastard playing at? _If he thinks I'm going to fall for his cool-guy act, he's got another thing coming_.

The door had barely swung shut behind the businessman before Christa released a cry that made Armin nearly jump out of his skin. "Oh my God, Armin! Armin do you know who that was?!" she shouted, bouncing over to him and grabbing him by the shoulders.

"What? No!" he hastily denied.

Thankfully she failed to notice his seemingly inexplicable repudiation in her excitement. "That was Irwin Smith!" she cried, eyes bright with excitement as Ymir released a groan from behind them.

"Is he that business guy from the news the other day?" the taller woman said.

"The—the _news_? He was on _TV_?" Armin asked as the entire world took on a grim new light.

"Yes!" Christa said, releasing his hands and ducking down to pet Romulus. The mastiff was politely sniffing noses with the golden, tail wagging as the petite blonde ridded him of his collar. "He's the chief executive officer of Titan Enterprises! And he was just in our salon!" She continued to lavish attention on Irwin's dog as Ymir muttered over her schnoodle.

"You and your financial shows," she said. "Honestly, who watches that stuff except for stuffy old men?"

"You're the one who's obsessed with money," Christa shot back pleasantly, "Besides; it's my mom who's into it. I just happen to watch with her sometimes."

For his part, Armin's mind was too busy reeling with all of this new, unwanted information to take part in the conversation. He stood there, still holding Romulus' leash even though the dog was no longer attached, and had to force himself to get a move on. If he didn't find something else to occupy his mind then he thought he might start screaming.

_He's famous_, he thought, _he's famous and I didn't know who he was and I had sex with him_. And of course he'd done so obliviously, because he barely even watched the regular news, much less the financial networks. The thought brought on a brief moment of hysteria, and he would have started laughing if he didn't value his coworkers' opinion of him. "Come on, pal," he said to Romulus, who followed him dutifully over his grooming station.

At least the dog was agreeable. Armin remembered Irwin mentioning that he was a show dog, so his compliance made sense. Show dogs were trained to put up with being poked and prodded and to follow direction without a fuss. Romulus saved Armin having to call on one of the girls for help with lifting by jumping up onto the table, and then into the tub when it was time for his bath. He stood when he was told, and accepted having his nails clipped and ears cleaned without so much as batting an eyelash. As far as any groomer would have been concerned, Romulus was absolute perfection.

"You're a good boy," Armin told him, and the dog gave him a look of pure adoration, wagging his tail as he was scrubbed down to his skin. "Your dad is a dink, though." Thankfully, nobody else heard him, and Romulus just cocked his head in that stupidly cute way that made Armin want to squish his face.

With all the services compiled, Romulus' bath took well over an hour. Armin left him to soak several times in different coat treatments, and the big dog would just lie down and wait for him to return. At least his coat dried quickly, though with the size of him even that took almost another whole hour, which was far longer than most bath dogs usually needed. In the end, Christa wound up joining him with the other drier, and by the time he was finished being brushed it was nearing six o' clock.

"I can't believe this guy requested you," Ymir said with a scowl, looking distinctly less pleased now than she had when she'd first made the appointment. "You must have met him before, right? What'd you run into him on the street or something?"

"Ah, yeah, something like that," Armin agreed. She didn't need to know under what circumstances they'd met, though.

"You're a lucky little shit," she muttered. "Any one of us could have done just as good a job. I mean, for fuck's sake, he's just a bath dog."

"Don't be jealous, Ymir," Christa chided sweetly, "Armin deserves this after the month he's had."

"Thanks, Christa," he said, truly grateful for her mediation. Whenever they had an unruly customer, or Ymir butted heads with somebody, it was Christa who stepped in and calmed things down. Sometimes Armin wished he had her way with people, until he remembered that people were dicks.

"No problem. Do you want me to call his dad?" she offered.

"Yes, thank you." At least he wouldn't have to talk to Irwin over the phone. Romulus hopped down off of the table at Armin's direction, and found a clean spot on the floor to lie down on. The golden was gone, as were their other appointments. All things said, it had been a slow day. Once Romulus was picked up, they would likely close up shop and go home, so they all set about cleaning. In short order, the salon was sparkling, and there was nothing left to do but wait.

"Hey, Armin, you don't mind if we take off, do you?" Ymir asked as he sat at the desk, stroking the soft, smooth fur on the top of Romulus' head. The dog had lumbered over and dropped his chin onto Armin's lap with a pleading look, and he had had no choice but to comply.

"Um, no, not at all," he said, which of course was a total lie. He minded very much if they left, because if they did then he would be alone with Irwin when the man showed up.

"Cool," Ymir said, "Have fun with your rich pal."

"Bye Armin! Don't forget to lock up!" Christa said, giving him a wave as she shrugged into her coat. He waved back, and watched them leave with a feeling of dread.

Not ten minutes later came the sound of the door opening. Armin had tried to occupy himself by using the shop computer to play games on the internet, but it wasn't enough to keep him from jumping to his feet like a frightened little fawn. "Hi," he said stupidly as Irwin entered. He was staring down at his phone, expression unreadable as he approached the desk.

"Hello, Armin. I trust Romulus was well-behaved," he said once he had tucked the device away. Armin tensed at the more familiar tone he used, even though he continued to keep up his cool frontage.

"Yeah, he was," admitted the blond. Romulus had also jumped up when he'd heard the door open, and was now standing on his back paws, front feet up on the desk as he wagged his tail and whimpered. "Oh, really? You're gonna start crying _now_?" Armin huffed as he reached for the dog's leash.

Inside Armin was seething, but he thought he kept it pretty well hidden as he let Romulus loose into the lobby. The big dope ran over to his owner and head-butted him, which admittedly made the blond smile. _Take that you Armani suit-wearing bastard_. With a deep breath he approached the businessman and reached down to grab the trailing leash. When he stood up he made sure to meet Irwin's pale blue eyes with his own.

"So," he began, "You could have mentioned while you were fucking me that you're famous."

Irwin blinked, then said in a deadpan that made Armin want to hit him, "The opportunity never arose."

"You couldn't have just thrown it out there?" Armin scoffed, "I mean, what if some paparazzi asshole saw us making out in your car and sold it to a newspaper or something?"

"My car has tinted windows."

"That's not the point!" Armin snapped. "I'm just some kid you decided to bring home, and you're this big important businessman who's been on television. Did you ever think that maybe I wouldn't want that kind of connection to you?"

"As I recall, you're the one who came onto me."

"Well, you could have said _something_," Armin said shakily, "You could have said 'no,' for instance." Irwin didn't seem to have a response for that. "And how did you find out where I worked, anyway?" he demanded. Now that he thought about it, Irwin's appearance back in his life was a touch unsettling.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out," said the older man, "There are only so many grooming salons in the city, and it's not very difficult to locate a specific person in such a humbly populated field."

Armin released an unsteady breath, and roughly handed him Romulus' leash. That was all well and good, but it didn't make it any less creepy. "Your total today is two-fifty," he said coolly, "Can you please pay me so I can go home?"

The blond returned to the other side of the counter, and found his humiliation was compounded when Irwin handed him one of those black, million-dollar limit credit cards. Forget the two-hundred and fifty bucks. This man could buy and sell everything in Armin's whole life without a second thought.

While he waited for the register to compute Irwin's purchase, he stared pointedly at a spot somewhere over the man's shoulder. Cars were whizzing by outside, their headlights splashing across the salon's large front windows. Armin couldn't wait to get home and lock himself inside his apartment for the night. In there he would finally be able to let down his guard, unless his nosy landlord decided to come poking around.

This time when Irwin spoke he didn't jump, but his eyes immediately darted back to the imposing man's face. "I apologize if you feel that I misled you at any point," he said in that soft commanding voice. Armin bit down on his tongue again, hating the way his words made shivers run up and down his spine.

"Thanks," the blond muttered stiffly.

"However," Irwin continued, "You're the one who knowingly and willingly used me to combat your emotional turmoil."

"Am I supposed to say sorry for that?" Armin asked, arching an eyebrow at him as the register chugged out a credit slip for him to sign.

"I don't expect you to." He couldn't decide if those words were meant to be venomous or not. Irwin showed absolutely no emotion, neither in his voice nor on his face.

"Well…I am sorry," he murmured, handing over the piece of paper and a pen. "I just…I've never done anything like that before. And I don't think I will again." Irwin said nothing, just signed his name to the slip. With a strange sense of desperation, Armin hurried to elaborate. For some reason he felt the need for Irwin to understand his actions, even though he didn't quite understand them himself. "I felt so terrible afterward. Not because of you or anything, but just guilty."

"Why?" Irwin asked him softly.

Armin shrugged, "Because you're right. I did use you. And that's…that was a shitty thing to do. So…sorry."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting Irwin to say to that, but it surely wasn't what the man actually wound up saying. "Armin, I have a proposition for you."

"A-a what?" Armin said, hearing the alarm in his voice. What, was he going to ask to sleep with him again, because there was no way in _hell_—

"I'm a very busy man, and I'm afraid Romulus doesn't get as much attention as I'd like to give him."

"Okay," Armin said hesitantly, unsure as to where Irwin was going with this.

"I had to take off early from work today just to bring him here," the older man said, reaching down to rub between the dog's ears. "Most days I work from eight in the morning until well past normal business hours, and I've been thinking of hiring a dog-sitter."

"I…I already have a job," Armin quickly objected, seeing now what he was getting at.

"I'm not saying you would have to stop by every day. Just whenever you can, to take him for walks or just to check on him. He's sort of a lazy thing, but he doesn't get nearly as much exercise as he should. And you would be well-compensated, of course."

Armin was speechless. He felt his jaw working, and the words that came out were not what he wanted Irwin to hear him say. "Just...just what are you trying to pull?"

"How do you mean?"

"You—I'm not going to sleep with you again. Ever," Armin informed him, folding his arms across his chest in a show of defiance.

"I wasn't asking you to. I need a dog-sitter, and you work with dogs."

"Fine, well…Why me then? He's a show dog, right? You must know other people who could do this for you," Armin pointed out.

"Of course. But they're all quite…how should I put this? They don't resonate as well with him as you do," Irwin said, expression becoming thoughtful as he explained, "He's usually rather stand-offish with people, but he warmed right up to you. If I have to find somebody else, I will, but I'd rather leave him with somebody who I know he likes." Armin bit his lip, and looked down from Irwin's dumb, handsome face, to his dog's dopey, hopeful one. It was probably just his imagination, but Romulus seemed to be anticipating his answer.

Heaving a sigh, Armin reached up and wearily dragged a hand down him face. "Alright. I'll do it. For _him_," he relented. "And if you try to hit on me even once, then I'm done."

"I assure you, you'll barely ever see me," Irwin responded with the hint of a smile. "What's the usual going rate for a dog-sitter these days, anyway?"

"I don't know," Armin admitted, "Like, twenty bucks an hour I think."

"That seems a bit paltry. How about a hundred?"

"What? No!"

"Five?"

"I didn't mean 'no, that's not enough,' I meant, 'no, that's way too much,'" Armin clarified, "I'm not exactly hurting for money. You don't need to pay me some exorbitant fee."

"A hundred an hour it is, then," Irwin said with a nod, ignoring any further protests Armin might have made, "I'll have somebody drop by with the key to my apartment tomorrow. Good night, Armin." All the blond could do then was watch him leave with his jaw hanging open. Somehow he felt that he'd just gotten himself involved in something that was going to be far more trouble than it was worth.

x

Dog walkers typically only work like an hour per dog. A hundred an hour is still a lot, but it's not like he's working an eight hour shift. That would be cuckoo-bananas.


	3. Chapter 3

There was something about walking a hundred and forty pound dog down the sidewalk and watching the crowds of people part before him like Moses parting the Red Sea that gave Armin an enormous feeling of satisfaction. On the other hand, it also annoyed him to no end that people were actually afraid of the large russet mastiff plodding along calmly at the end of his leash. Other people walking their dogs were being dragged, or tangled up, or outright ignored. Romulus was the best-behaved of them all, and nearly everyone who looked at him did so with some measure of fear, as if they thought the big goof was going to jump up and bite their heads off.

The satisfying part mostly pertained to the looks that people gave the one walking the dog. Armin weighed about ten pounds less than the tosa, but he had no difficulty handling him. Even if Romulus had been one of those loony dogs that tried to haul him around like a sack of potatoes Armin wouldn't have had as hard a time walking him as some people. Just like anything else in life, proper dog walking took practice. There was a science to it, and Armin refused to let any dog yank him down the sidewalk, no matter how big.

Just as Irwin had promised, the day after Romulus' bath some guy in a suit had stopped by with an envelope that not only contained a key, but several sheets of information on the type of care the CEO expected to be imparted to his dog. Armin admittedly was impressed in spite of himself; there were so many people who treated their dogs more like an accessory than a living being that needed to be cared for. Somehow, he had been expecting that Irwin would be the same. Sure, the man had brought his dog in for a bath, but Armin had perhaps wrongly assumed that that was just an excuse to pester him. Romulus might be a show dog, but Irwin obviously thought of him as more than just a pet.

With some trepidation, he had driven his car over to the businessman's penthouse, parking in the designated guest area and taking the elevator back up to the top floor. The place seemed different during the day. It was less intimidating in the sunlight, even though Armin had to punch in a security code in order to gain access to the large apartment. Once inside, Romulus greeted him with a skittering of claws and a sloppy dog-kiss.

"I can't believe this place," Armin had muttered to him. Being there alone made him uncomfortable, so he'd clipped on the dog's leash and hurriedly made his escape. That had been a week ago, and much as Armin dreaded inadvertently running into Irwin, he knew he was already growing quite attached to the man's dog. He had even gotten up early the day before and brought the mastiff into work with him. Romulus made a good shop mascot, more so than Christa's snooty little Papillion, Baby. He was calm and well-mannered, and he would lie on the floor and let the smaller dogs crawl all over him like he was a doggy jungle-gym.

Today Armin had the day off, and so had decided to bring Romulus with him while he met up with his friends for lunch. There was a café in midtown that allowed well-behaved dogs in their outdoor section, and though it was cold they still served customers outside provided the weather was clear.

When he arrived, his best and oldest friend, Eren Jaeger, was already waiting for him. "Holy shit," he said as Armin slipped through the rope barrier around the café tables, guiding Romulus inside with a careful hand. "That dog is bigger than you are."

"You don't say," Armin replied, adding just a touch of sarcasm so that Eren rolled his eyes.

"Don't get snippy with me, Arlert. I was just saying. Come here, mutt," he said, holding out a hand for the dog to sniff, "Damn, he could fit my whole head in his mouth." Romulus warily trotted over to greet him, stretching to smell his hand so that he wouldn't have to get too close. Irwin was right about one thing; the dog certainly didn't take to most people as quickly as he had to Armin, though he was never aggressive in any way. He let Eren pat him, then flopped down to the pavement and watched Armin take a seat with droopy eyes.

"Where's Mikasa?" Armin asked.

"Bathroom," Eren said, "The waiter already came by, so I ordered you a coffee." Armin thanked him, and tied Romulus' leash to the leg of the heavy iron table so that he wouldn't be able to wander off. Not that he would, of course. "So…," Eren said after a moment of them sitting there in silence, "How's it going?"

Armin knew what he was really trying to ask, but Mikasa had clearly been giving him some sorely needed lessons in tact. What Eren really wanted to know was how Armin was faring in the whole post-Jean debacle. He had a particular interest in the subject, seeing as how he had despised Jean from the jump. According to him, that feeling was now entirely justified. "Fine," Armin replied. He wasn't really. The whole thing still made him hurt, sending prickling waves of sadness emanating out from his chest whenever he unintentionally thought of the two-timing asshole. But clinging to it, griping over it wasn't the way to get over his pain.

"Please," the brunet said with another roll of his eyes, "You can't fool me, Armin. Jean practically ripped your heart out of your chest and tossed it in the garbage right in front of you; you can't tell me that you're 'fine.'"

"Really, Eren," he said with a sigh, damning his friend's keen insight into his emotions. They had known each other for far too long. "I'm fine. A lot better than I was, at least."

"It's not good to hold these things in, y'know," Eren said as their waiter arrived and set out their drinks. Eren told him they weren't ready to order yet, and the man went scurrying back inside where it was warm.

"I'm not holding anything in," Armin denied.

Eren looked to be readying another counter-argument, but a voice behind them cut him off. "Eren, stop antagonizing him. If he doesn't want to talk about it, then you can't make him talk about it."

"Thank you, Mikasa," Armin said, sticking his tongue out at Eren as the tall, dark-haired girl took a seat across from him.

"Fine, fine, whatever," Eren relented, though Armin figured he would likely try again later. He knew the brunet meant well, but he really didn't want to talk about it anymore than he already had. There just wasn't that much left to say now that it was all said and done. Jean had left him for somebody else, and Armin had quickly realized that he had no desire at all to try to win him back. He would be perfectly happy in fact if he never had to see the back-stabbing jerk ever again.

"Armin," Mikasa said after taking a sip of her tea, "how is your new side-job going?" At least she had the good grace to avoid asking him awkward questions, and he felt a rush of gratitude toward his second oldest friend. Although he and Eren had known each other longer, Mikasa had become a member of their tight-knit little family almost right off the bat. That, of course, had been well over a decade ago, so now it was hard for him to even remember what things had been like before she came around.

"Not bad," he said, "I keep telling the guy he doesn't need to pay me so much, but he won't listen." The few times he had spoken to Irwin over the phone since accepting the job had each found him bringing up the subject of payment, but the older man wouldn't hear a word about it.

"Pssh, poor you. 'Oh, my boss pays me too much, he's such a dick!'" Eren cried mockingly, "Seriously, Armin. One of these days your conscience is gonna get you into trouble."

"I just feel guilty," Armin said with a shrug, though he didn't add that being paid so much made him feel a little dirty. He _had_ slept with the guy, after all, and the whole situation was more than a little awkward.

"He _is_ the CEO of an entire company," Mikasa said in that reasonable way of hers, "I don't think you need to feel guilty about taking his money." They didn't get it, and admittedly that was mostly his own fault. If he didn't tell them the whole story then they wouldn't be able to understand, but the shame still bit at him whenever he thought of his night with Irwin, and so he kept his mouth shut.

Still…maybe he could tell them _something_, without exactly divulging all of the details. For a while he listened to them chitchat—ever since moving to the city they all had found separate lives, but they always made an effort to get together to catch up. Mikasa had just gotten a job at a major accounting firm, and Eren was working on getting his masters in architectural drafting. Their lives sounded so much simpler than his, though he knew that was selfish of him to think. He knew that school was in no way a simple thing, nor was entering the work force. At least they weren't foolish enough to get themselves tangled up in a situation like his.

As they conversed, he sat and tried to think of how to broach the subject of Irwin without revealing who he was speaking of. When the waiter brought them their lunch, his friends lapsed into silence. Eren reached over to steal some of Mikasa's French fries and as she slapped his hand away, Armin finally worked up the courage to blurt, "I met somebody."

"Ow, Mikasa, Jesus," Eren grumbled, then, "Wait, what?"

"So soon?" Mikasa asked with a frown.

"Well…I don't know…it's complicated," Armin mumbled, wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut.

"You can't just say that you met somebody and then shrug it off with 'it's complicated,'" Eren reproached. "What happened?"

"He's…he's older than me," Armin said, "And…I may have slept with him. It was a mistake, though. But now I don't know what to do about it. I don't know what he expects from me, and it's freaking me out." The last few sentences he spoke in a rush, and when he looked up he saw that his friends were regarding him with concern.

"I could deal with him if you like," Mikasa asked, "If he's bothering you, that is."

"I'll kick his ass up one side of the street and down the other," Eren added bluntly with the same scowl he wore whenever the subject of Jean came up.

"No, it's not like that, it's just…Ugh, never mind. I shouldn't be bothering you guys with this."

"You're not bothering us, Armin," Mikasa assured him, "But I wish you'd realize that you're perfectly capable of dealing with these things on your own."

"Yeah, you're the smart one," Eren added, "You've gotta have some confidence in yourself. I mean, you deal with animals all day that could probably kill and eat you, and you don't have a problem with them."

"Dogs are different," Armin said, and it was true. An animal was much easier to converse with than another human, especially one like Irwin, whom he just couldn't seem to be able to read. As shrewd as Armin was, and as skilled as he had gotten at dealing with people, something about Irwin just threw him off. He couldn't tell if he was being manipulated or not, and it bothered him to no end.

As if sensing his discomfort, Romulus rose up from his spot on the ground and nudged the blond with his nose. Armin gave him a pat, and offered him a French fry, breaking Irwin's rule about no people-food. "Don't tell your dad, alright?" he said as the dog swallowed his treat, and waited expectantly for another.

There was always a sadness that descended over Armin when he and his friends had to part ways. Mikasa had to run errands, and Eren had a project he needed to finish, so after a crushing group hug they split apart. The only one who had nothing else to do that day was Armin, and so he wandered, following in the lumbering wake of his furry charge. Romulus, of course, was unopposed. Apparently the dog had his own hidden agenda, though the blond didn't take note until he saw that they had arrived at the gate of the sprawling city park. "And people say dogs are stupid," Armin muttered.

Beyond the entrance were myriad trails and playgrounds, and even a small enclosed dog park. Armin surmised that the mastiff must have been here before with his owner, because Romulus lead him straight to it. "You wanna play with some other doggies, huh? Alright. Be good. Don't hump anybody," he said, stepping through the chain link gate and unclipping the dog's leash. At this time of day, there weren't all that many dogs around, and those that were present seemed wary off the massive dog that now walked amongst them. _Poor guy_, Armin thought, _even other dogs are scared of him_.

There were benches stationed around the edges of the play area, so that the owners could sit and keep an eye on their pets. Armin seated himself on the edge of one, and leaned forward, head in his hands and elbows on his knees. I should quit, he thought. Agreeing to being in Irwin's employ had been a bad idea from the start, but some part of him had agreed to do it for Romulus' sake. Or at least that's what he'd said. Now he was pretty sure that he'd gone and done it all for his own selfish reasons, because, let's face it, Irwin was a handsome bastard who'd fucked him senseless and he'd liked it.

"Oh, God, I'm so gross," he groaned, burying his face in his hands as for the millionth time his dumb, traitorous brain treated him to a barrage of images from that night. Yes, he was definitely going to quit. Tonight he'd call Irwin and tell him, and that would be that.

"Excuse me?" Armin started, sitting up straight and twisting around, expecting the voice he'd just heard to belong to an irate dog owner. But the speaker was not even inside the fence, and Romulus was busy digging a hole underneath a tree, and not bothering anybody. "You're Armin, right?" said the tall, dark-haired man leaning over the fence and regarding him with a sheepish expression.

"Um, yes? Can I h—," Armin felt the word stick in his throat as a memory from a wholly different incident came screaming up from the recesses of his mind. It was hard to believe that two such strongly impacting events had both happened on the same day, but Armin remembered both with astounding clarity. He remembered opening the door to Jean's bedroom, seeing two men on his bed, one of them Jean, and one of them the nervous-looking man standing on the other side of the fence.

He took a step back and swallowed hard. _Control yourself_, he thought, reaching up and coughing into his hand. "Ahem. Can I help you?"

"Well, I just…I don't know if you remember me, but, well, I'm—,"

"I know who you are," Armin interrupted tersely, "Marco, right?"

"Ah, yeah…Jeez, this is pretty awkward, huh?" he offered Armin a guilty smile, one that was not reciprocated. "Right, well. I know I'm probably not somebody you really want to talk to, but I saw you sitting over here and…Look. I'm sorry about what happened. Jean is too, especially after the talking to I gave him for what he did. He didn't tell me…well, I knew about you, but he made it seem like things were on really rocky ground between you two. That doesn't make it any better, but…," he trailed off, eyeing the hand Armin had held up to forestall him.

"I'm sorry, Marco. I don't want to be rude, but I'm really not in the mood for this right now." He had far too much on his mind to deal with _this_.

"No, no, I understand, I just…I told Jean he needed to apologize, but he doesn't think you'd want to talk to him."

"He's right."

"And I totally understand," _no you don't_, "I mean it. You need time, and I just wanted to apologize for my part in all this. Really. I'm so sorry." He hung his head as he said it, freckled face reddening as his fingers curled between the metal links of the fence. Armin clenched his fists, then loosed them. More than anything, he wanted this moment to be over. He would give anything for Marco to just shut up and walk away, to never, ever cross paths with him again.

"Is that all?" he heard himself say. Marco looked up, lips pursed, expression that of a man who is well and truly repentant.

"Yeah. I guess," he said. "So…I'll see you." _God, I hope not_, Armin thought as he watched Marco trudge away.

"Romulus," he called. The big dog lifted his head from his rapidly growing hole in the ground, and trotted over somewhat reluctantly. "Come on, big guy. Time to go home."

It took half an hour for him to get back to where he'd left his car, and another thirty minutes for him to get back to Irwin's penthouse. The place was just as silent as ever, empty, and for that much he was grateful. _Why_, he thought as he lingered in the doorway, watching Romulus amble toward the kitchen. It just wasn't fair. Why did Marco have to be so damn _agreeable_? Armin had been hoping that he would be a horrible person, not that bashful, freckled idiot. He'd wanted to be able to _hate_ him.

He found himself moving toward the sofa, and let himself flop down onto the upholstery, for once unmindful of its value. These cushions held some significance for him, after all. _This is where I sucked his dick_, he found himself thinking. For some reason the thought struck him as particularly funny, and he began to giggle, first quietly and to himself, and then in great peals of laughter. A wet nose touched him and made him jump, the sounds dying in his throat as Romulus looked up at him with an expression of mild concern. "I'm fine, pal," he said, "just losing my mind is all."

He realized then that he was tired. Tired of all these thoughts, and tired in general, both mentally and physically. It was early yet. Irwin wouldn't be home for hours, and he'd told Armin he should feel free to make himself comfortable if he ever felt the need. And frankly, Armin had absolutely no desire to go back out into the world just now. Who knew who he would run into next if he did? "I think it's naptime, Romy," he said to the mastiff, "Go lay down." Armin tugged off his shoes, pulling one of the throw pillows over to cushion his head as he tucked his feet up behind him on the couch. _Just a half-hour_, he told himself. _Wake up in half-an-hour_.

Normally he was pretty good about these sorts of things. He was the sort of person who woke up before his alarm clock went off in the morning, though he didn't always get up right away. A tiny part of him must not have wanted to wake up in time to safely make an exit, because the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to darkness and looking around in a haze of groggy confusion. "Crap," he grumbled, pushing himself up into a sitting position and rubbing at his eyes.

"You're awake," a voice said to his left, and he nearly fell off the sofa in fright. In an effort to save face, he quickly scrambled to his feet, and turned to face the man seated on the far side of the room. He was reading in the light of a small lamp, seated in a chair beside a massive bookcase. _Was he just sitting there while I was sleeping? Fucking sketchball_.

"You're home early," Armin noted, grateful that he was able to keep his voice steady. It was only five-thirty, and that meant he'd been asleep for almost three hours.

"It does happen on occasion," Irwin stated. _Conveniently whenever I'm around_, Armin thought as he silently cursed the universe.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked tired. I thought you might need the rest." God, it like talking to an attractive rock.

"Okay then. Well, I'll just get out of your hair," Armin said, sitting back down and reaching for his shoes. As he was tugging at his laces the living room light snapped on, and he looked up to find Irwin leaning against the wall, watching him.

"Is everything alright, Armin?" he asked.

"Yeah," said the blond as he finished tying his shoes and stood up to leave. "Why?"

"You don't look well."

"Gee, thanks," he said, pointedly making his way toward the door. Unfortunately he had to walk past Irwin to get there. A hand fell on his shoulder as he tried to maneuver by him, holding him in place and making his hackles rise.

"There's no need for you to be so mistrustful of me," Irwin said, and Armin snorted, shrugging his hand away.

"Actually, there _is_ something I wanted to talk to you about," he said, "I don't think this whole arrangement is going to work out. I quit. And you can keep your money." He reached into his pocket for his keys, meaning to remove the ones that let him into the building and the CEO's penthouse, but that same big hand closed over both of his, pushing them down.

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Armin?" Irwin asked, as if the answer wasn't obvious. His voice was low, and he was staring with that _look_ on his face. The look that wasn't a look, the one that made Armin want to scream and rip his hair out. Nobody had ever been able to get under his skin the way that this man did with his damn unreadable _face_.

"No," he said, meeting that steady gaze with a defiant one. Irwin's hand still covered both of his, and he slowly became aware of the way that the older man's thumb was gently massaging his wrist. From very far away he heard his keys clanging to the floor, and then he was fisting his hands in the bastard's shirt collar, tugging him down and kissing him with a furious need. He was on his toes, and he felt a pair of hands pulling him closer, one in the small of his back and the other tangled in his hair. Their mouths opened together, and he seized the opportunity to push his tongue past Irwin's lips, raking it over the opposing muscle and pulling it back before the older man could deepen the kiss. Instead, he grabbed a lower lip between both of his own, tugging back on it before slowly tracing it with his tongue.

Evidently, Irwin didn't like his little display. Or maybe he liked it a little too much. Either way, Armin found himself being spun around and shoved into the wall. Crushed between Irwin and a solid object made him feel dizzy with lust—the only thing he could feel was the older man's body molded against him, strong arms holding him in place as he was summarily punished for teasing. He submitted wholly to the rebuke, moaning as Irwin kissed him with a nearly bruising force. _This shouldn't feel this good_, some small, irrelevant voice murmured in the back of his head.

When they broke apart he found that he was lightheaded—he'd never been kissed so hard that he completely forgot the need for oxygen. "Holy shit," he gasped into the older man's chest, clinging to him because he wasn't sure he could stand on his own at the moment.

"We can stop now, if you like," Irwin said, practically out of nowhere.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Armin demanded, leaning back and glaring up at him.

"You said, and I quote, 'I'm not going to sleep with you again. Ever.'"

"Well, fuck what I said, I was having a moment."

"You're sure?" In lieu of a verbal answer, Armin slid his hand down and palmed Irwin's already hardening cock through his slacks. He bit his lip and arched his body against that of the taller man as he kneaded the front of his pants. Now that it was about to happen again he could admit it to himself; this was what he'd wanted since their first night together. The realization sent a hot rush of shame to redden his face, but his indignity was forgotten as Irwin took hold of his wrist, pulling the hand away from his poorly concealed erection in a strong but gentle grip. "Wait for me on the sofa," he said, and Armin could only nod his acquiescence.

He sat stiffly on the edge of the middle cushion and removed his shoes again, then his coat. Would Irwin want to undress him, or should he do so himself? _Fuck it_, he thought as he reached down and tugged up the hem of his shirt. By the time Irwin returned from shutting away the dog, he was down to his boxers. There were no hints of disapproval on the older man's face; he just looked hungry in a way that sent Armin's entire blood supply straight to his crotch. He _loomed_, and when he reached for the blond it made his stomach jump with anticipation.

This time when they kissed it was slower. Armin pulled Irwin toward him as the sofa cushions sank underneath his weight, leaning into the back of the couch as he did so until the taller man's body partly covered his own. He raked his fingers through Irwin's short, immaculately combed hair, spreading his legs to accommodate the CEO's torso. Their tongues wound together, all _heat_ and _wet_, and Armin heard himself moan into the kiss, his body nearly shaking with desire as he was pressed into the cushions beneath them.

"Tell me what you want," Irwin rumbled into his mouth, and Armin felt his cock positively _throb_ in response.

"I want you to fuck me," he said quaveringly, "Hard. Like you did last time." Irwin seemed willing to comply, if the way he ducked his head to bite at Armin's neck was any indication. "Ha-_aah_!" the blond gasped when he felt a large hand slide down his stomach and into his underwear to stroke him. "_Irwin_," he moaned as teeth dug into his flesh. The hand on his cock rubbed a callused thumb against the head, and he ground his teeth together, choking back a strangled noise of ecstasy.

His boxers were pushed back, caught mid-thigh where they met the obstacle of Irwin's still fully-clothed body. Armin tugged at the obstructing cloth with hands that were too eager to be steady. The buttons on his shirt wouldn't submit to his attempts to undo them, and the look of amusement on Irwin's face only served to further frustrate him. "Fuck," he growled, "Can I just rip it off?"

"Can you?" the older man asked, cocking an eyebrow as his expression once again became otherwise neutral. Armin took it as a challenge—the guy owned a whole "_enterprise_," after all. He could afford a new damn shirt. Buttons popped as he gripped the collar and tore downward, too desperate to care about the tearing fabric. Triumphantly, he yanked the shirt free, tugging it open and trying to shove it off down his shoulders, but he was foiled again by one of those troublesome hands. Irwin clutched his hand and kissed it. Armin watched the act with confusion, and then the older man was redirecting the hand, sending it toward his waist, and he understood.

The belt was more cooperative than the shirt, and Armin pushed the slacks down just far enough to comfortably free the older man's cock. It throbbed hotly against his own, and the very nearness of them made him arch up into Irwin's hips. There was that bottle of lube again, in those awful hands, and Irwin sat back just enough to free up Armin's legs and rid him fully of his underwear. His knees were pushed up, slick fingers probed into him, and he couldn't take it. He clutched at any part of Irwin he could and pushed against the digits, fucking himself on them, trying unsuccessfully to find his own prostate. "Oh, please," he whimpered, pressing his head back into the cushions.

Irwin pulled away from him, and he felt abandoned until something crinkling skittered onto his stomach, making him jump. "A condom?" he said, experiencing a wild moment of panic. Irwin couldn't want him to…to…

"It's an expensive sofa," the older man explained.

"O-oh," Armin said, feeling stupid. He couldn't recall ever having to wear a condom, but he realized belatedly that doing so could have spared him several loads of extra laundry. It felt strangely constricting, but when he touched himself he didn't think there was much loss of sensitivity, if any.

There wasn't a whole lot of time allotted for him to overanalyze it. Irwin took hold of his shoulders and gently turned him, pushing him facedown toward the cushions. "Wait, no," Armin said, "I want to see your face." He'd been denied that the last time, watching Irwin when he came, and he wasn't going to let the older man push him around again. Irwin hesitated, and he twisted out of his grip, quickly turning around and reaching for the older man, pulling him close.

"I prefer it the other way," Irwin informed him.

"Too bad. Hey!" Armin protested as his hips were turned forcing him onto his side. He was fully prepared to squirm away again, but Irwin didn't roll him any further than that. Rather than force the issue, he was being given a compromise, and he victoriously accepted the CEO's kiss. Irwin used the distraction to guide the head of his cock into the blond's slickened opening, and Armin released a sigh; _finally_.

He reached up to stroke Irwin's neck as the older man eased into him, biting his lip again as the strange angle rubbed against places he hadn't even known about. It stung a little, until the older man hooked an arm under his leg, spreading him wide open so he could go deeper. Something about being stretched to the limit was immensely satisfying in a way he couldn't describe. Irwin's thrusts came slowly, and Armin was content to let him build up a momentum. There was something to be said for the deliberate way he rolled his hips, the pleasure a soft and gradual burn. This wasn't something he'd ever experienced before, and a part of him thought it felt too gentle, too much like making love for what this really was. "Faster," he panted in spite of himself, and Irwin complied.

Fire crept through his veins, and he gripped the couch cushions as the hastening cock inside him struck that _spot_, the one that made him sob a strangled version of Irwin's name. There were lips on his face, and he turned to greet them, his whole body jerking in time with the thrust of those hips. He was being crushed by this man, and the position made it awkward to wrap his arms around his neck, but he managed, fingers curling into the short, soft hairs he found on the back of Irwin's head.

"Good," Irwin groaned into his ear, and it sent thrills like lightning-bolts shooting up his spine. Knowing that he could give pleasure as good as he was getting made it all the better. _Now_ he was being fucked, the entire couch shaking with the way he was being pounded into, and he fought to form a coherent word until even those efforts were washed away and he could only scream.

When he came this time he thought he literally might die. If Irwin had had any control left at all at that point, it all unraveled, and his thrusting became uneven, stuttering, but still so good, _so good_ Armin had to focus hard in order to see his face in the dark. The orgasm tore through him as Irwin was _grinding_ into his prostate, and his vision seemed to go completely black, his mind blanking. He didn't even care if he'd missed watching the older man come again because he was lost on a high that he didn't ever want to come down from.

Eventually he did, though. Slowly, at first, deliriously, body aching, tingling. He opened his eyes, and found himself in bed. Irwin had moved him, and he hadn't even noticed. The CEO was also conspicuously absent, and Armin tried to move, tried to get up to go find him but his legs were too weak to work, so he collapsed back onto the mattress in defeat. There was a rectangle of light on the far wall where he knew the bathroom door to be. A minute later the door swung open, and Irwin was momentarily limned before turning the light off.

The mattress creaked, and Armin accepted the warm body that stretched out next to him, curling into it with a yawn. "How do you feel?" Irwin murmured to him in the dark.

"Good," Armin said.

"That's all?"

"You said the same thing when you were fucking me," the blond muttered.

"Fair enough." Arms encircled him, and he gave up on being annoyed at how comfortable it made him feel. He was nearly asleep when Irwin spoke again, asking him silly questions in the middle of the night. "Do you still quit?"

"No," Armin said, "Yes. I dunno. Be quiet, okay, I'm tired."

"I'd like it if you didn't."

Armin was quiet for so long that he was sure Irwin must have fallen asleep by the time he answered. "I won't," he said, knowing full well what he was really agreeing to, "But I'm not taking your money. I'm not a prostitute."

"Prostitution is a noble profession," Irwin murmured into his hair. Apparently he had nearly fallen asleep after all. Armin snorted, the noise soft and small. He tried to think of a snarky quip, something to shoot back at the CEO, but nothing came to his pleasure-muddled mind. _Oh well_, he thought. He'd have plenty of chances to think of a good one in the future.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for reviews and follows amigos. This is a short one.

x

Armin was in trouble, but it was the kind of trouble that had the potential to lead to something good. Irwin lay beside him on his massive bed, reading some stack of paperwork that the blond admittedly had no interest in. What he was interested in was the man. Irwin. Sitting there in a t-shirt and briefs, focused on the papers in his hands. God, he was distracting.

He took a surreptitious glance at him every so often. Armin was naked but for his underwear, and pretending to play with his phone. They had already had sex, but they might do it again. Correction; they _would_ do it again. Armin wanted to, and he knew if he initiated it Irwin wouldn't deny him. But this time he didn't want to be the one who got things started. It felt like it was _always_ him. The unfairly handsome man lying beside him seemed content with this, to let Armin make the decision, as if he preferred it that way.

Half the time, though, he really had to work him up for it. Just leaning over and kissing him was no fun. If he was gentle, then Irwin would be gentle. He would touch his body, make him feel good, but he wouldn't fuck him into the mattress. Armin was starting to find that he really did prefer it that way—rough—and for some reason the thought always brought a blush to his face. They had literally had screaming hot sex an hour ago, but if he thought about the way Irwin pounded into him and made him beg he would flush hot with embarrassment. _Was it really me doing those things? _He had to wonder sometimes what had happened to shy little Armin. These were not things he had ever done with his ex-boyfriend, Jean.

Maybe that was the difference. Irwin wasn't his boyfriend. He was a man that Armin was sleeping with. Their relationship was built mainly around fucking, though there were moments where he caught glimpses of a man who could be caring. The first time they had met, Irwin had seemed sincerely concerned for his well-being, but he was quickly finding out that that was not his usual personality. For the most part he was silent, commanding, and almost rigidly disciplined.

All of those things combined just so happened to enable Irwin Smith to turn Armin's usually sharp mind into an irrational mush. Once he had stopped dancing around the issue and accepted that he wanted the older man, this had been easier to deal with. He could cope, but when he found he wanted Irwin, when he had to have him, just simple sex wouldn't do. He needed something rougher, because when Irwin was gentle, when he touched Armin like he was something special it felt like a lie. He needed to be fucked, because if it was just sex he wouldn't be able to handle their relationship.

There was a feeling in his chest when he looked at Irwin, though. He had to bury that feeling, because he knew it wouldn't lead anywhere but to more pain. Irwin was nearly fifteen years his senior. That type of connection to him was not something he should be thinking about, but he couldn't help it sometimes. Irwin was serious and imposing, but the moments when he was kind made Armin's heart ache. The moments when the blond could make that serious, stoic façade crack, when he made Irwin lose control, it made Armin feel _powerful_. It was not something he was used to feeling, and he reveled in it.

In truth there was nothing he wanted more than for Irwin to be warm with him, but if he did so and he didn't mean it then it just made things worse. If Irwin didn't feel that way about him then Armin could accept what they had. Even though it was empty it made him feel good, and he would rather have that than nothing at all.

So how to make Irwin want Armin as much as Armin wanted him? He knew he wasn't much to look at. He was short, and not very muscular, but at least he was leaner than he used to be. Once upon a time he'd just been tiny and soft, but at least his job had given him a measure of strength. Irwin seemed to like his hair, though. He liked to grab it, and run his fingers through it, and just the thought of it sent tremors down Armin's spine.

With a plan already formulating in his mind he made a great show of shivering and shifting closer to the older man. Irwin was sitting up in bed, and Armin moved so that his head rested at the CEO's hip, within easy reach of the man's hand. "Cold?" Irwin asked.

"A little," Armin said. He wasn't. His body felt hot and cozy, so even if the room had been cold he wouldn't have noticed. A hand found its way to his hair, a hand with long fingers that turned his insides into quivering jelly, and was now stroking his scalp. He held in a sigh, and leaned into Irwin's body, nuzzling his solidity.

"Why don't you take a shower?" Irwin suggested. His hand didn't pull away just yet, and Armin didn't want it to.

"I'm too comfortable," he mumbled. The hand slipped down and cupped Armin's face, tilting it back until he was looking Irwin in the eyes. "What?" he asked with feigned innocence.

Irwin ran a thumb across his bottom lip. "I have to finish these reports."

"What's stopping you?" he asked as the digit pressed down on his lip. He opened his mouth and his tongue slipped out, lapping slowly at the ball of the thumb. He never looked away from Irwin's fixed gaze, his steely, striking eyes.

Irwin took his hand away, stroked it backward down the blond's reddened cheek. "Come here." Armin moved with embarrassing speed, straddling Irwin's lap as he set the paperwork carefully aside. His blood was thrumming already, and Irwin had placed a hand on his waist, tracing the line of his hipbone where it rose out of his underwear. Armin smiled at him, and laid a hand on his chest. He could feel the older man's heartbeat through his shirt, feel the muscle layered over muscle. He was so strong to be so gentle.

"Irwin." He didn't know what he wanted to say, but there was some nameless emotion bubbling up his throat, and he was afraid what would happen if he let it reach his mouth. So he kept the words in by pressing his lips to Irwin's, curling his arms around the strong neck and shoulders as he was pulled tight against the older man's torso. It didn't take much these days to arouse him—he could feel Irwin through the thin material of his boxers, how hard he already was, and it made his body respond in kind.

His mouth was held captive by a kiss that made his head spin, clearing out all rational thought like a great all-encompassing wave. Irwin's tongue swept underneath his, and he sighed because just _kissing_ had never made him feel so good before. He shifted then, and their cocks rubbed together; the resultant friction elicited a high, needful whine from the blond. Armin found that his hips moved instinctively to seek that same clothed contact. What had Irwin reduced him to? He was hopeless and it was all the fault of the man below him, the one who was slipping a hand into his underwear to palm him.

"Your hands are cold," Armin whispered to him, arching into his hand anyway because the cold actually didn't feel all that bad.

"You'd have been able to warm up if you'd taken a shower."

"I'll do it if you join me." Irwin's only response to that was to free his own cock, releasing it from his briefs and holding it together with Armin's in his hand. It was so hot and throbbing, and Irwin's cold hand squeezing them together was just too much for him to bear. "That feels good," he groaned, pressing his head against the older man's collar bone as his hand began to move. Sometimes this whole situation of theirs felt like something intangible, like it was just a fantasy Armin had created in his head. Maybe he was a patient in a mental ward somewhere just imagining that all of this was happening to him. Then Irwin squeezed him a little too hard, and his yelp of pleasure sent him crashing back into reality, and he realized he was pumping his hips in time with the older man's hand.

He had to wonder what Irwin thought of him when he got like this. Did he think Armin was just some wanton little pleasure addict, did he maybe wonder if he was the only one the blond did these things with? No, Irwin knew that the only other person Armin had ever been with was Jean. It made him want to tell the older man that he was the only one who saw this side of him, that Irwin was the only one who had ever made him feel like this.

Fear kept his mouth shut, though. Something told him Irwin wouldn't want to hear those things, and he was certain if he told him then whatever this was that they had would all come to a screaming halt. Armin wasn't ready for that. Maybe one day he would get over himself, get this all out of his system and be able to find a nice guy his own age to be with. That's what he was supposed to want, what he should have wanted, but there was something vastly unappealing about the images it brought to mind. Jean had been a "nice guy" after all, and look how that had turned out.

There was something hot inside him, something coiling just below his cock, and he urged Irwin on with cries of pleasure that increased in pitch and volume with every pass of his hand. The pressure built until it exploded out, and he clung to the solid body beneath him as if he feared he would float away if he let go. His thoughts slowly collected themselves, creeping back in through the burning incoherence in his mind, and he realized Irwin was still holding him.

"I ruined your shirt," he muttered. It was the first thought that occurred to him, and he had no filter at the moment through which to strain his observances.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried. It was your own fault." Armin had wanted to be fucked again, but he decided this was just as good. Whatever Irwin wanted to do to him was fine, as long as he could stay close to him like this. He could hear his heartbeat now, and it was the most soothing noise. Some deep, primal instinct in him was comforted by this sound, and he found himself quickly spiraling down into sleep._ I have to do something about this_, he thought. There had to be a way, some way to make something more of this than what it was. He wanted to know more about the man whose heartbeat had lulled him to sleep than where on his body he liked to be bitten, or that he responded so well to being teased.

They had barely known one another for two whole months. Perhaps it had happened too quickly, but Armin didn't care. It was Irwin's fault, and Armin decided that it was his job to make sure that he was held responsible for his actions.


	5. Chapter 5

I decided to do one from Irwin's POV because reasons.

I love you guys.

X

The numbers on his phone informed him it was two forty-one in the morning. He had woken to the sound of it buzzing on his bedside table, and reached automatically for the device. It wasn't unusual for some dire emergency to occur when he wasn't around to handle it, and this certainly wouldn't be the first time it had happened while the rest of the world slept. Resigning himself to a wakeful night, he accepted the call, and held the phone to his ear. "Yes."

"We need to talk."

"Levi, it's the middle of the night."

"I'm aware of that. Now come buzz me in, it's fucking cold out here." The call ended with a blip, and Irwin groaned as he sat up; his back was stiff, and with good reason. He exercised at least three times a week in order to maintain his physical condition, but his recent..._exertions_ were taking their toll. To his left there was a soft breath, and he looked down as Armin rolled over in his sleep, causing the bedsprings to creak. He snaked a thin arm out, making another faint noise as he sought the source of heat he'd lost when Irwin moved away. All that Irwin cared about was that he didn't wake up, at least not until this urgent matter of Levi's was taken care of.

A robe hung on the back of the door to the master bath, and he swung it around his shoulders. Levi couldn't have cared less if he'd met with him in his underclothes, but Irwin believed in maintaining an appropriate level of decorum with his underlings. Before he turned to leave the room he stopped just long enough to pull the coverlet up over Armin's shoulders. The penthouse was temperature controlled, but it was chilly in his bedroom.

"Took you long enough, Irwin," Levi grumbled as he stalked through the front door, reaching up to loosen his scarf with that bland scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. As long as Irwin had known him he almost always appeared to be in a foul mood. Moments of placidity were few and far between, though they did occur every so often.

"What was so urgent that it couldn't wait until the morning?" he asked, ignoring the bad-tempered remark.

"I have some information regarding the matter you asked me to look into, and I felt it required immediate attention. In person," Levi said as he made his way over to the sofa. Irwin followed, and took a seat on the adjacent armchair.

"Well?"

"There's definitely somebody leaking our sensitive data to an outside buyer." Irwin considered this, folding his hands together underneath his chin as his mind worked. Without waiting for him to ask for further explanation, Levi continued, "I've been having our IT guys run tracking software, but they've only been able to uncover trace evidence. It's enough to confirm our suspicions, but not enough to pin down a specific source. Whoever is selling our information knows how to cover their tracks, or is working for somebody who does."

"And that could be any of a number of people."

"Precisely." Irwin closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. This was a problem.

"You'll do better," he said.

Levi snorted, "When you say it like that it makes it sound like a simple matter."

"We can't allow this to continue, Levi."

"Of course not. I know that, and I'm handling it. I have people in the company working to sniff out the mole. Sooner or later they'll make a mistake, and then—,"

"We'll put an end to them," Irwin finished for him, tone rigid.

"Ah, it gives me chills when you speak so forcefully," Levi said, scowl never once wavering.

"Do you have anything else of import to tell me?" the CEO asked, straightening up in his chair.

"Not at the moment, no," Levi said, "But it's early yet."

Irwin sighed and nodded. Ignoring the twinge in his back, he twisted slightly in his chair and glanced over toward the unlit hallway that lead to the bedroom. "Armin, if you're through eavesdropping then you ought to join us." A shadow jumped, detaching itself from the darkness, and a moment later the blond slowly emerged. Though he wore a look of chagrin, he offered no apology or denial. He had been caught, and he accepted it without needless backpedaling.

Levi twisted in his seat, lips pursing when he laid eyes on the young man standing behind the couch with his arms behind his back, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxer shorts. "Well, Irwin. Isn't this an interesting occasion."

"Levi, this is Armin. Armin, this is Levi Rivaille, my chief officer of operations," Irwin said, noting the way Armin brought his arms up, folding them over his chest as if he were hugging himself.

"Nice to meet you," Armin said, regarding the stoic man with an uncertain sidelong look.

"Is it?" Levi stood and walked around the sofa. The blond seemed to stand up a little straighter when he noticed he was taller than Levi, though he didn't look any less uncomfortable. "He's a cute one, Irwin," the surly COO noted, "Where did you find him?"

"Levi," Irwin said with a warning edge.

"I hope he's clean, at the very least. Can't have you going around contracting diseases from filthy little boy-whores." Clearly Levi had wildly misread the situation; Irwin got to his feet, preparing to intervene if Armin reacted poorly.

As it turned out, he needn't have bothered. "If you're worried about me being unclean then I'd refrain from sitting on the couch again," the blond said, tone wry. Irwin was positioned in such a way that he was able to see the immediate look of disgust that flashed across Levi's face.

"The brat's got a sharp tongue, too," the diminutive man sneered, "Make sure you don't cut your cock on it, Smith."

"Levi, that's quite enough," Irwin said, "If you don't have anything else for me, then I really would like to get back to bed."

"I'm sure you would," Levi huffed, expression returning to normal. "I'll see you at work, Irwin. And I'd burn that couch if I were you." He wrapped his scarf back around his neck, and made his way toward the door. Armin watched with a scornful expression until the lock clicked back into place behind him.

"He seems pleasant," the blond said as soon as he deigned it was safe. He didn't bother to inquire as to whether it was alright for Levi to know about them. Armin was perceptive enough to know that if Irwin had let him be seen, then it must have been fine. When they had agreed to a certain level of secrecy pertaining to their relationship, Armin had agreed more readily than he'd been expecting. "My friends are really protective of me," was the only explanation he'd given to that end.

"He has his moments," Irwin agreed. He walked over to where the younger man stood and placed his hands on a set of lean shoulders. Bright blue eyes met his own, clear and focused despite the late hour, as usual. "You shouldn't have been eavesdropping on us."

Armin uncrossed his arms and reached up to rest his hands on Irwin's chest. "I didn't do it on purpose," he said, never breaking eye contact with the older man. "I just got up to see where you'd gone, and then I didn't want to intrude, so…" He shrugged. Still no apology, and honestly Irwin didn't expect one.

"Go back to sleep, Armin," he said, nodding back toward the bedroom.

"What about you?"

"I have work to do."

"At three in the morning?"

"I work when I have to," Irwin told him, sliding a hand up to the blond's chin and tilting his head back. He kissed him chastely, then repeated, "Go back to sleep."

"Fine," Armin sighed with just the slightest pout. It turned into a yawn, and he hobbled away down the hall with his hand over his mouth.

"Don't let the dog on the bed with you," Irwin called after him, knowing it would do no good. Armin had a way of shirking every rule Irwin placed in front of him, and he did so with surprisingly little effort.

He waited until he was certain the younger man had at least returned to the bedroom, then he followed, making a right turn into a door halfway down the hallway. When he clicked the light on it washed his home office in stark, unwelcoming light. There was no need for the room to be comfortable, and it wasn't. Only the chair behind the desk was tailored to conform to his body, as was the one at his office at work. That was simply to ensure that he didn't succumb to the back problems that came with sitting at a desk for hours on end, as recommended by his physician.

Now that Levi had confirmed what Irwin had already been mostly certain of, there were several things he had to ensure. False trails to lay, so to speak. Whoever this insider was, they were looking for certain types of information. Mostly where money was being directed from what he'd been able to glean so far; what projects they were currently funding, and what their financial projections were. All of it was potentially damaging information if it were to fall into the wrong hands. A competitor could use the details to undercut and commandeer Titan Enterprises.

The work took the rest of the hours left until the sun began to creep up over the horizon. There were dozens of emails, inquiries into things he wasn't truly interested in, memos that were outright fabrications. Nobody would wonder that he'd done all this in the middle of the night—he often worked after hours, drawing admiration from those who approved of his tireless efforts. If only his board of directors was as enthusiastic. Comprised mostly of appointees left over from the time his father had been in charge of things, they more often than not did everything in their power to undermine him. Thanks in no small part to Levi, he was usually able to thwart them.

As the sun came up, he pushed away from his desk and made his way wearily into the bathroom to get ready for the day. By the time he was showered and fully dressed it was nearly time to leave. He had worked longer than he'd planned, and there was no time to eat. He would have to send his assistant out for coffee, but the boy was willing enough to please in that respect.

He was adjusting his tie in the bathroom mirror when Armin made another appearance. There was a flicker of movement in the reflective glass, and he could see the young man leaning in the doorway, watching him with those observant eyes. When he had first seen the little blond it had been on something of a stressful day for him. The board had just finished dressing him down for what they branded "poor financial planning," and he had left work early in order to collect his thoughts. As he'd headed toward the car park, crossing a decorative square in front of his building, he'd spotted a young man sobbing uncontrollably on a dirty wooden bench.

Every instinct told him to keep walking, but he'd experienced a moment of pity. Whether or not that had been a mistake had yet to be seen. In all honesty he had not initially planned on sleeping with Armin. The boy's big blue eyes and delicate appearance had been all too familiar of the sort of overeager men he usually brought to his bed. Those encounters were singular, and they needed to be; there was no better way to disillusion somebody who obviously only wanted to please him for their own gain than cutting things off immediately. He had quickly found that in Armin's case at least, looks could be deceiving.

It was a lesson he'd learned years ago, but it had been a while since he'd dealt with somebody in or outside of work who wasn't outright selfish and conniving. Armin was clever, though; it was in those sharp, knowing eyes, and he wasn't pandering or compliant just for the sake of being so. When he submitted it was because _he_ wanted to, and not just to satisfy Irwin. It made the older man want to _possess_ him, to _dominate_ him, but not to tame or subdue him. If Armin became one of those timid men who let him do as he pleased without offering him any challenge, then he was sure he would quickly lose interest.

"Yes?" Irwin said to the watching figure as his dog lumbered through the open door, yawning and whining as he leaned against Armin's leg.

"Can we talk about something?" the younger man asked, eyes seeking Irwin's in the reflection.

"I'm going to be late for work."

"You own the whole company. What're they gonna do, fire you?"

Irwin sighed and turned, leaning back against the counter to face the blond. "Alright. What do you want to talk about?"

"It's just…," he paused, looking up at the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts, "If we're going to keep doing this, then I think we should talk about what we are."

"How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean."

Irwin matched his gaze, and gave it a moment of thought. As far as he was concerned, their current arrangement was working out just fine, and had been for the past several weeks. Armin warmed his bed several nights a week, and was slowly trying to usurp the affections of his dog. It wasn't the sort of thing that would last forever, or even very long, but he planned on enjoying it while he could. "If you're asking me for a romantic relationship then I would have to suggest you find someone your own age."

"That's not what I was saying," Armin said with a scornful huff, "I just wanted to know what you would call…this." He made a back and forth motion with his hand, gesturing between the two of them.

Armin watched intently as the older man pushed away from the counter and crossed the room, pausing only inches away from him. "You can call it whatever you like, Armin," he said, "Just don't confuse it with something deeper than it truly is." He watched as the little blond seemed to process this, lowering his gaze as he mulled it over. If he objected, if he wanted anything more than Irwin was prepared to give him then it would be best for him to end it right now. Not that he would enjoy calling things off, but Irwin was a man who did what was necessary.

"Alright," Armin said slowly, nodding to himself, "Good. I'm glad we got that settled. Now get out, I have to pee." There was a moment then, a brief flash of something going across the blond's face, and if Irwin hadn't known any better he'd have said it was an expression of intense calculation. Then it was gone and so was Armin, locking himself in the bathroom where his face could not be seen at all.

He was back in bed by the time Irwin finished getting ready, curled up next to Romulus and fast asleep. "I hope you don't think this means you can get on the furniture whenever you like," Irwin said. The big mutt just gave him an innocent look and rested his giant head on Armin's feet. At least if he was being spoiled rotten, it was by somebody who knew how to handle him. Aside from his show handler and Irwin himself, there weren't many people who were willing to try.

As soon as he arrived at the corporate offices of Titan Enterprises he was met with a barrage of paperwork, mostly inquiries and other minor things that his immediate subordinates were too indecisive to handle. He spent half the morning simply reading and signing requisitions and legal documents, and when he ordered his coffee his assistant was only too willing to get a chance to do something useful for him. Bertholdt was a curious young man, unusually lacking in any major personality traits. At times he seemed unmotivated and reticent, but he would do whatever Irwin asked of him and that was really all that mattered.

It was just past noon when he was thinking that he should eat something and dubiously regarding his slowly dwindling stack of paperwork that the intercom on his desk buzzed. "Uh, sir?" Bertholdt sounded uncertain, vexed even, which was so out of character for him that Irwin immediately reached over and pressed the button to respond.

"Yes?"

"There's, ah, somebody here to see you. He doesn't have an appointment, and security says they have no idea how he even got up here. Should I have him escorted out?"

"Does this person have a name?"

"He says his name is Armin?"

Irwin took a moment to close his eyes, collecting himself before pushing the intercom button again. "Let him in."

"O-okay, sir."

Armin pushed open the office door and raised his eyebrows, apparently impressed. "Wow," he said, "Nice office." The room was decorated only for the sake of keeping up appearances. The opulent accessories—including paintings, vases, a small, stocked bar, and several exotic potted flora—were all for show. Irwin had allowed Levi to decorate for him, as he had really seen no difference in leaving it all bare. "You've heard the term 'dress to impress?' The same principle applies to your office. People will expect—and be impressed by—extravagance because they're idiots," his officer of operations had told him with the air of someone explaining something to a child. That, of course, had been years ago.

"What are you doing here, Armin?" he asked, and the boy crossed the room, holding out a Styrofoam cup to him over the top of his desk.

"I brought you a coffee."

"I'm the CEO of a multinational corporation. Do you think I can't afford my own coffee?"

"Yeah, but this is good coffee. You know, the kind that us regular people drink." Armin sloshed the beverage around in its cup, and Irwin accepted the drink with a sigh. "Besides, it's the thought that counts."

"How did you get past security?"

"I just walked past them. Nobody stopped me."

"No?"

"Nope. I have a technique."

"Care to elaborate?" Armin grinned, and circled around his desk, hopping up onto the edge so that he was sitting almost directly in front of the older man.

"If you act like you belong where you are, like you're not doing anything wrong, then people will assume it's true. I've snuck into lots of places, and I've only been stopped a handful of times." He said this without any sense of smug superiority—it was all just fact, but that didn't mean he wasn't being boastful.

"You continue to surprise me, Armin," Irwin said, and the blond gave him a pleased smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows. The CEO shook his head—he would have to delegate somebody to address that little lapse in security, though he doubted many others possessed the gumption to simply waltz right into the building. Armin, it seemed, did whatever he felt he could get away with.

"So," the blond said, glancing over his shoulder at the neatly arranged papers spread across Irwin's desk, "What're you working on?"

"Evaluating our shareholder value maximization."

"Wow. That sounds really boring," Armin said, looking disappointed.

"What were you expecting?"

"I dunno. I was hoping you'd open up your giant vault of money and we could swim around in it." Irwin cocked an eyebrow at him, and he said, "You know, like Scrooge McDuck? Duck Tales? He had a huge vault of money and he would…never mind."

"Is this from a cartoon?"

"Yes, you uncultured swine." Irwin motioned for him to move, and he slid off the desk, taking up a position leaning against his chair instead.

"You're only going to continue to be bored if you hang around here," the CEO informed him. It was a not-so-subtle direction for him to leave, but unsurprisingly it went ignored.

"I don't have anything else to do," Armin said, slipping an arm around his shoulders as Irwin reached for his wireless mouse. "This is a pretty sweet setup. Is that a touch screen?" he asked, pointing to the computer monitor with the hand that wasn't fiddling with Irwin's lapel.

"Yes," the businessman said. Armin was leaning into him, and the feeling of that warm, lean body against his brought up memories of heat and friction.

"Er, should I be looking at this?" the blond said as Irwin brought up his work email, eyeing the screen, and then the documents spread across his desk.

"That depends," Irwin said, "Are you the corporate spy that's been siphoning off my company's private information?"

"Yes." Armin maintained a straight face for approximately three seconds, then he grinned again. "You caught me."

"Levi was right," Irwin said as he scrolled through a meandering email from his financial officer.

"How so?"

"You are a brat."

Armin made a scandalized noise, and gave Irwin a shove. "I am nothing less than a pleasure to be around," he countered. His fingers moved from the collar of the businessman's suit, and up into the short hairs on the back of his scalp. "I could show you, if you like," he said, voice dropping as he leaned in closer, running his hand up and down the CEO's neck in a way that made his skin tingle

So that was why he'd come. Armin was certainly inventive if nothing else. He had developed a penchant of late for teasing him, pushing him endlessly when he was in a mood to. It had gone from being unintentional, from Armin not realizing what he was doing or at least not planning anything in advance, to him knowing exactly what buttons to push to get what he wanted. There was always a different method, from playing coy, to intentionally frustrating and arguing with him, usually over little things. Irwin knew why he did it, understood it on some rational level. The blond was trying to entice him, to cause him to lose control so that Irwin would fuck him the way he liked. That didn't mean it didn't drive him mad, and that was the whole point of it he supposed.

"This is a place of work," Irwin told him, feeling the blond's warm breath on his neck as he leaned in close.

"So what? You've never fooled around in here before?"

"No. I can't afford any such distractions."

"Is that all I am, then?" Armin murmured with his lips on Irwin's ear, "A 'distraction?'" He was pushing it, and he knew it.

"You're a nuisance," Irwin said, turning his head to face those expressive blue eyes hovering only centimeters from his own. There was a world of knowing in those eyes, eyes that understood far more than they let on. At the moment, though, there was also desire, darkening the clear blue irises with need.

"But you like it."

"You should leave."

"I won't."

"Very well." Armin came willingly when Irwin pulled him close, pressing his lips to the long, pale throat.

"I want you to fuck me over your desk," Armin said. It was a command. Irwin clenched his teeth and squeezed the young man's hips until he whimpered.

"You realize that you're infuriating, yes?"

"Mm-hmm." The blond gasped as Irwin pushed him away, pressing him back into the edge of the desk. "Irwin, what—," He stopped speaking when the CEO moved his hands up, gripping the boy's belt and pulling it loose. A smaller hand reached for him, gripping his forearm as the other braced him on the desk. Irwin opened the front of his jeans and pulled his chair closer, leaning in and pressing his mouth to a slender hip. The hand on his arm moved up to the back of his head, fingers digging into his hair. "Oh, _yes_," Armin hissed, trying to arch his hips forward, but they were held down by a pair of strong hands.

He was already hard. Irwin licked at the head of his cock and Armin squirmed, hands trying to pull his face in closer. "Please," he whispered, and even in that one plaintive word there was an order. The older man took the cock into his mouth—if Armin wanted it, then he would give it to him. He would make the blond cry his name, make him scream until he was reduced nothing more than a quivering mess.

"Irwin," he gasped, "Oh, God. It's s-_ah_!" he curled forward, arms wrapping around the businessman's shoulders. He was so sensitive. Every time Irwin touched him it seemed like he came undone, and he enjoyed it, reveled in the way he lost himself. As soon as he had what he wanted, he no longer seemed to care whether or not he was in charge of the situation. He let Irwin do as he liked, but by then the older man would have long since lost any modicum of control, and Irwin was a man who strived on his ability to school himself. It was not in his nature, nor to his liking to lose himself. Armin, though, always managed to do or say something that took him aback, that reminded him that this boy was not a meek little bedmate who would do whatever it took to please.

After he came he held onto Irwin's shoulders, panting and standing on shaky legs. "Oh, damn, that was…God, I need to sit." The CEO let him fall into his lap, and Armin rested his face in the crook of his neck as he caught his breath. He was so light, so warm, and he always fit so perfectly against the older man's body. "Hey, Irwin," he said several minutes later, once he'd stopped breathing so hard. "How do I taste?"

There is was again. Irwin hadn't been expecting him to say any such thing, and the salacious nature of the question made his loins pulse with need. Armin seemed to expect the kiss, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue past Irwin's lips to taste himself. He was sweet, every part of him, from his wicked little tongue, to his soft skin, his sweat and his cum. Sweet and salty and he moaned when Irwin held his mouth captive, making sure he got a good, long taste.

There was a hand moving up his thigh, and he didn't bother to stop it. "You're the worst," he said, and he felt Armin grin against his mouth. The blond kissed him again before he slid down between his legs. Yes, he did have a sweet tongue, sharp and sweet, and just as knowing as his eyes. It swept across the head of his cock, and Irwin buried his hands into soft blond locks. He didn't worry that someone might walk in on them. All he could concentrate on was Armin taking him into his mouth, sucking him down almost into his throat as he massaged the underside of his shaft with that terrible little tongue. He was bobbing his head and stroking with a deft hand, looking up at Irwin with eyes that tested him even now.

The hand was slow, and the mouth was hot. He was humming, and nipping, and he knew how to take his time. When Irwin came, he swallowed every drop until the cock had softened in his mouth. Then he stood up and tried to pull away, tried to play shy again, but Irwin caught him and crushed him in his arms. "You should stop playing these games with me, Armin."

"I don't know what you're talking about," he denied, voice muffled against Irwin's chest.

"Of course you don't." He loosened his grip just enough to let the blond sit up and kiss him again. He found his own taste was slightly bitter, and he wondered if things like that held any significance. "Are you coming over tonight?" he asked.

"No," Armin said, "I'm going to the movies with my friends."

"Come over after."

"Are you sure? It's probably going to get out pretty late."

"I'm sure."

A cheeky little grin spread across his face, and he asked, "Does this mean you like me, Irwin?"

"It means I want you in my bed tonight," Irwin told. For the second time that day, a strange look flashed across Armin's face, one that was gone too quickly for him to fully discern, but he thought it almost looked like disappointment.

Armin kissed him on the corner of his mouth, then slipped off his lap. "I'll see you later, then," he said, and his tone was light but there was something about him that seemed downcast. It made Irwin wonder again, just what had been the point of this whole visit? What was the point of all Armin's teasing, and for that matter, why did he allow it to continue?

The answer there was obvious, though he disdained to acknowledge it. It made him think again that it might in both their best interests if he simply called it off right now. Armin paused at the door, not for more than a second, and Irwin felt himself tensing for something he didn't want to concede. But nothing happened. The boy simply opened the door and slipped out without a word, and Irwin shook himself, regrouping because Armin had once again left his self-control in tatters.


End file.
